3  "* 
"52 


MAR  1  1 


LIBRARY ' 

UNIVERSITY  OP 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN  oi  ceo 


?s 


MR.    HOWELLS'S    BOOKS. 

A  Foregone  Conclusion.    1  vol.    12mo. .    .  S2.00 
A   Chance  Acquaintance.      Illustrated  by 

HOPPIS.    l™l.    12m° 

A  Chance  Acquaintance.      1  vol.     Small 

18mo.    Ked  edges     . 


Their   Wedding    Journey.      Illustrated  by 


1  Tol.      Small 


1.25 


UOPPIS.    1  vol.     12mo 
Their   Wedding    Journey. 

18mo.     Bed  edges 

Suburban  Sketches.     Illustrated  by  HOPPM. 

1  Tol.    12mo 

Venetian  Life.    1vol.    12mo    . 

Italian  Journeys.    1vol.    12mo 

Poems.    1vol.    Small  18m o.    Red  edges  .    .    .     1-25 

The  Parlor-Car.    Farce.     Vest-Pocket  Sefies.       ^ 

1  TOl 

A  Day's  Pleasure.    Vest-Pocket  Series.    11- 


lustrate*1 


J8 


•  *  For  sale  by  all  Booksellers.      Sent,  post-paid,  on 
receipt  of  price  by  the  Publishers, 

JAMES  R.   OSGOOD  &  CO., 
131  FRASKLIS  STRBET,  BOSTON. 


Out  of  the  Question. 


A  COMEDY. 


BY 


W.   D.    HOWELLS. 


BOSTON: 

JAMES    R.   OSGOOD    AND    COMPANY. 

Late  Ticknor  &  Fields,  and  Fields,  Osgood,  &  Co. 

1877. 


Copyright,  1877, 
By  II.  0.  HOUGHTON  &  Co.  and  W.  D.  HOWELLS 


RIVERSIDE,   CAMBRIDGE  : 

STEREOTTPED    AND    PRINTED    BT 

H.    0.   HOCGHTON   AND   COMPANY. 


CONTENTS. 

I.  IN  THE  PARLOR  OF  THE  PONKWASSET  HOTEL  3 

II.   "!N  FAYRE  FOREST" 37 

III.  A  SLIGHT  MISUNDERSTANDING 65 

IV.  MRS.  MURRAY'S  TRIUMPH 99 

V.  BLAKE'S  SAVING  DOUBT 119 

VI.  MR.  CHARLES  BELLINGHAH'S  DIPLOMACY     .        .      131 


I. 

IN  THE  PARLOR   OF  THE   PONKWASSET 
HOTEL. 


OUT  OF  THE   QUESTION. 

i. 

Miss  MAGGIE  WALLACE  and  Miss  LILLY  ROBERTS. 

THE  Ponkwasset  Hotel  stands  on  the  slope  of  a 
hill  and  fronts  the  irregular  mass  of  Ponkwasset 
Mountain,  on  which  the  galleries  and  northern  win 
dows  of  the  parlor  look  out.  The  parlor  is  fur 
nished  with  two  hair-cloth  sofas,  two  hair-cloth  easy- 
chairs,  and  cane-seated  chairs  of  divers  patterns ; 
against  one  side  of  the  room  stands  a  piano,  near 
either  end  of  which  a  door  opens  into  the  corridor ; 
in  the  center  of  the  parlor  a  marble-topped  table 
supports  a  state-lamp  of  kerosene,  —  a  perfume  by 
day,  a  flame  by  night,  —  and  near  this  table  sit  two 
young  ladies  with  what  they  call  work  in  their 
hands  and  laps. 


6  Out  of  the   Question. 

Miss  Maggie  Wallace,  with  her  left  wrist  curved 
in  the  act  of  rolling  up  a  part  of  her  work,  at  which 
she  looks  down  with  a  very  thoughtful  air  and  a 
careworn  little  sigh :  "  I  don't  think  I  shall  cut  it 
bias,  after  all,  Lilly." 

Miss  Lilly  Roberts,  Jetting  her  work  fall  into  her 
lap,  in  amazement :  "  Why,  Maggie  !" 

Maggie :  "  No.  Or  at  least  I  shan't  decide  to 
do  so  till  I  've  had  Leslie's  opinion  on  it.  She  has 
perfect  taste,  and  she  could  tell  at  a  glance  whether 
it  would  do." 

Lilly:  "I  wonder  she  isn't  here,  now.  The 
stage  must  be  very  late." 

Maggie:  "I  suppose  the  postmaster  at  South 
Herodias  waited  to  finish  his  supper  before  he 
'  changed  the  mail,'  as  they  call  it.  I  was  so  in 
hopes  she  would  come  while  they  were  at  tea  !  It 
will  so  disgust  her  to  see  them  all  strung  along  the 
piazza  and  staring  their  eyes  out  at  the  arrivals, 
when  the  stage  drives  up,"  —  a  horrible  picture 
which  Miss  Wallace  dreamily  contemplates  for  a 
moment  in  mental  vision. 

Lilly:  "Why  don't  you  go  down,  too,  Maggie? 
Perhaps  she  'd  find  a  familiar  face  a  relief." 


In  the  Parlor  of  the  Ponkwasset  Hotel.        7 

Maggie,  recalled  to  herself  by  the  wild  sugges 
tion  :  "  Thank  you,  Lilly.  I  'd  rather  not  be 
thought  so  vulgar  as  that,  by  Leslie  Bellingham, 
if  it 's  quite  the  same  to  other  friends.  Imagine 
her  catching  sight  of  me  in  that  crowd !  I  should 
simply  wither  away." 

Lilly,  rebelliously  :  "  Well,  I  don't  see  why  she 
should  feel  authorized  to  overawe  people  in  that 
manner.  What  does  she  do  to  show  her  immense 
superiority  ?  " 

Maggie  :  "  Everything  !  In  the  first  place  she 's 
so  refined  and  cultivated,  you  can't  live  ;  and  then 
she  takes  your  breath  away,  she  's  so  perfectly 
lovely ;  and  then  she  kills  you  dead  with  her  style, 
and  all  that.  She  is  n't  the  least  stiff.  She  's  the 
kindest  to  other  people  you  ever  saw,  and  the  care- 
fullest  of  their  feelings ;  and  she  has  the  grand 
est  principles,  and  she  's  divinely  impulsive !  But 
somehow  you  feel  •  that  if  you  do  anything  that 's  a 
little  vulgar  in  her  presence,  you'd  better  die  at 
once.  It  was  always  so  at  school,  and  it  always 
will  be.  Why  you  would  no  more  dare  to  do  or 
say  anything  just  a  little  common,  don't  you  know, 


8  Out  of  the  Question. 

with  Leslie  Bellingham "  —  A  young  lady,  tall, 
slender,  and  with  an  air  of  delicate  distinction,  has 
appeared  at  the  door  of  the  parlor.  She  is  of  that 
type  of  beauty  which  approaches  the  English,  with 
out  losing  the  American  fineness  and  grace  ;  she  is 
fair,  and  her  eyes  are  rather  gray  than  blue ;  her 
nose  is  slightly  aquiline ;  her  expression  is  serious, 
but  becomes  amused  as  she  listens  to  Miss  "Wal 
lace.  She  wears  one  of  those  blonde  traveling- 
costumes,  whose  general  fashionableness  she  some 
how  subdues  into  character  with  herself;  over  her 
arm  she  carries  a  shawl.  She  drifts  lightly  into 
the  room.  At  the  rustling  of  her  dress  Miss  Wal 
lace  looks  up,  and  with  a  cry  of  surprise  and 
ecstasy  springs  from  her  chair,  scattering  the  con 
tents  of  her  work-box  in  every  direction  over  the 
floor,  and  flings  herself  into  Miss  Leslie  Belling- 
ham's  embrace.  Then  she  starts  away  from  her 
and  gazes  rapturously  into  her  face,  while  they 
prettily  clasp  hands  and  hold  each  other  at  arm's 
length :  "  Leslie !  You  heard  every  word !  " 


II. 

Miss  LESLIE  BELLINGHAM,  MAGGIE,  and  LILLY. 

Leslie :  "  Every  syllable,  my  child.  And  when 
you  came  to  my  grand  principles,  I  simply  said  to 
myself,  '  Then  listening  at  keyholes  is  heroic,'  and 
kept  on  eavesdropping  without  a  murmur.  Had 
you  quite  finished  ?  " 

Maggie  :  "  0  Leslie !  You  know  I  never  can 
finish  when  I  get  on  that  subject !  It  inspires 
me  to  greater  and  greater  flights  every  minute. 
Where  is  your  mother  ?  Where  is  Mrs.  Murray  ? 
Where  is  the  stage  ?  Why,  excuse  me !  This 
is  Miss  Roberts.  Lilly,  it 's  Leslie  Bellingham ! 
Oh,  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  together  at  last ! 
Didn't  the  stage"  — 

Leslie,  having  graciously  bowed  to  Miss  Rob 
erts  :  "  No,  Maggie.  The  stage  did  n't  bring  me 
here.  I  walked." 


10  Out  of  the   Question. 

Maggie  :  "  Why,*Leslie !  How  perfectly  ghast 
ly!" 

Leslie  :  "  The  stage  has  done  nothing  but  dis 
grace  itself  ever  since  we  left  the  station.  In  the 
first  place  it  pretended  to  carry  ten  or  twelve 
people  and  their  baggage,  with  two  horses.  Four 
horses  ought  n't  to  drag  such  a  load  up  these  prec 
ipices  ;  and  wherever  the  driver  would  stop  for  me, 
I  insisted  upon  getting  out  to  walk." 

Maggie :  "  How  like  you,  Leslie ! " 

Leslie  :  "  Yes ;  I  wish  the  resemblance  were  not 
so  striking.  I  'm  here  in  character,  Maggie,  if  you 
like,  but  almost  nothing  else.  I  Ve  nothing  but  a 
hand-bag  to  bless  me  with  for  the  next  twenty-four 
hours.  Shall  you  be  very  much  ashamed  of  me  ? " 

Maggie :  "  Why,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  've 
lost  your  trunks  ?  Horrors  ! " 

Leslie :  "  No.  I  mean  that  I  was  n't  going  to  let 
the  driver  add  them  to  the  cruel  load  he  had  al 
ready,  and  I  made  him  leave  them  at  the  station 
till  to-morrow  night." 

Maggie,  embracing  her:  "Oh,  you  dear,  good, 
grand,  generous  Leslie !  How  —  Why,  but  Les« 


In  the  Parlor  of  the  Ponkwasset  Hotel.     11 

lie !     He  '11  have  just  as  many  people  to-morrow 
night,  and  your  trunks  besides  theirs  !  " 
.  Leslie,  with  decision  :  "Very  well !    Then  I  shall 
/  not  be  there  to  see  the  outrage.     I  will  not  have 
suffering  or  injustice  of  any  kind  inflicted  in  my  , 
presence,  if  I  can  help  it.     That  is  all."     Never 
theless,  Miss  Bellingham  sinks  into  one  of  the  arm 
chairs  with  an  air  of  some  dismay,  and  vainly  taps 
the  toe  of  her  boot  with  the  point  of  her  umbrella 
in  a  difficult  interval  of  silence. 

Maggie,  finally :  "  But  where  is  your  hand-bag  ?  " 

Leslie,  with  mystery ,  "  Oh,  he  's  bringing  it." 

Maggie:  "He?" 

Leslie,  with  reviving  spirits :  "  A  young  man, 
the  good  genius  of  the  drive.  He  's  bringing  it 
from  the  foot  of  the  hill;  the  stage  had  its  final 
disaster  there  ;  and  I  left  him  in  charge  of  mamma 
and  aunt  Kate,  and  came  on  to  explore  and  sur 
prise,  and  he  made  me  leave  the  bag  with  him,  too. 
But  that  is  n't  the  worst.  I  shall  know  what  to 
do  with  the  hand-bag  when  it  gets  here,  but  I 
shan't  know  what  to  do  with  the  young  man." 

Maggie :  "  With  the  young  man  ?    Why,  Leslie, 


12  Out  of  the   Question. 

a  young  man  is  worth  a  thousand  hand-bags  in  a 
place  like  this!  You  don't  know  what  you  're  talk 
ing  about,  Leslie.  A  young  man  "  — 

Leslie,  rising  and  going  toward  the  window: 
"  My  dear,  he 's  out  of  the  question.  You  may  as 
well  make  up  your  mind  to  that,  for  you  '11  see  at 
once  that  he  '11  never  do.  He  's  going  to  stop  here, 
and  as  he 's  been  very  kind  to  us  it  makes  his  never 
doing  all  the  harder  to  manage.  He 's  a  hero,  if 
you  like,  but  if  you  can  imagine  it  he  is  n't  quite 
—  well,  what  you  've  been  used  to.  Don't  you  see 
how  a  person  could  be  everything  that  was  unself 
ish  and  obliging,  and  yet  not  —  not "  — 

Maggie,  eagerly  :  "  Oh  yes !  " 

Leslie  :  "  Well,  he 's  that.  It  seems  to  me  that 
he  's  been  doing  something  for  mamma,  or  aunt 
Kate,  or  me,  ever  since  we  left  the  station.  To 
begin  with,  he  gave  up  his  place  inside  to  one  of 
us,  and  when  he  went  to  get  on  top,  he  found  all 
the  places  taken  there ;  and  so  he  had  to  sit  on  the 
trunks  behind  —  whenever  he  rode ;  for  he  walked 
most  of  the  way,  and  helped  me  over  the  bad 
places  in  the  road  when  I  insisted  on  getting  out- 


In  the  Parlor  of  the  Ponkwasset  Hotel.     13 

You  know  how  aunt  Kate  is,  Maggie,  and  how 
many  wants  she  has.  Well,  there  was  n't  one  of 
them  that  this  young  man  did  n't  gratify :  he 
handed  her  bag  up  to  the  driver  on  top  because 
it  crowded  her,  and  handed  it  down  because  she 
could  n't  do  without  it ;  he  got  her  out  and  put  her 
back  so  that  she  could  face  the  front,  and  then 
restored  her  to  her  place  because  an  old  gentleman 
who  had  been  traveling  a  long  way  kept  falling 
asleep  on  her  shoulder;  he  buttoned  her  curtain 
down  because  she  was  sure  it  was  going  to  rain, 
and  rolled  it  up  because  it  made  the  air  too  close  ; 
he  fetched  water  for  her ;  he  looked  every  now 
and  then  to  see  if  her  trunks  were  all  right,  and 
made  her  more  and  more  ungrateful  every  minute. 
Whenever  the  stage  broke  down  —  as  it  did  twice 
before  the  present  smash-up  —  he  befriended  every 
body,  encouraged  old  ladies,  quieted  children,  and 
shamed  the  other  men  into  trying  to  be  of  some 
use ;  and  if  it  had  n't  been  for  him,  I  don't  see 
how  the  stage  would  ever  have  got  out  of  its 
troubles ;  he  always  knew  just  what  was  the  mat 
ter,  and  just  how  to  mend  it.  Is  that  the  window 


14  Out  of  the   Question. 

that  commands  a  magnificent  prospect  of  Ponk- 
wasset  Mountain  —  in  the  advertisement  ?  " 

Maggie  :  "  The  very  window !  " 

Leslie:  "Does  it  condescend  to  overlook  so 
common  a  thing  as  the  road  up  to  the  house  ?  " 

Maggie :  "  Of  course  ;  but  why  ?  " 

Leslie,  going  to  the  open  window,  and  stepping 
through  it  upon  the  gallery,  whither  the  other 
young  ladies  follow  her,  and  where  her  voice  is 
heard :  "  Yes,  there  they  come !  But  I  can't  see 
my  young  man.  Is  it  possible  that  he 's  riding  ? 
No,  there  he  is !  He  was  on  the  other  side  of 
the  stage.  Don't  you  see  him  ?  Why  he  need  n't 
carry  my  hand-bag !  He  certainly  might  have  let 
that  ride.  I  do  wonder  what  he  means  by  it  !  Or 
is  it  only  absent-mindedness  ?  Don't  let  him  see 
us  looking !  It  would  be  altogether  too  silly.  Do 
let 's  go  in  !  " 

Maggie,  on  their  return  to  the  parlor :  "  What 
a  great  pity  it  is  that  he  won't  do !  Is  he  hand 
some,  Leslie  ?  Why  won't  he  do  ?  " 

Leslie :  "  You  can  tell  in  a  moment,  when  you  ve 
seen  him,  Maggie.  He's  perfectly  respectful  and 


In  the  Parlor  of  the  Ponkwasset  Hotel.      15 

nice,  of  course,  but  he  's  no  more  social  perspec 
tive  than  —  the  man  in  the  moon.  He  's  never  ob 
trusive,  but  he  's  as  free  and  equal  as  the  Declara 
tion  of  Independence ;  and  when  you  did  get  up 
some  little  perspective  with  him,  and  tried  to  let 
him  know,  don't  you  know,  that  there  was  such  a 
thing  as  a  vanishing  point  somewhere,  he  was  sure 
to  do  or  say  something  so  unconscious  that  away 
went  your  perspective  —  one  simple  crush." 

Maggie :  "  How  ridiculous  !  " 

Leslie :  "  Yes.  It  was  funny.  But  not  just  in 
that  way.  He  is  n't  in  the  least  common  or  un 
couth.  Nobody  could  say  that.  But  he  's  going 
to  be  here  two  or  three  weeks,  and  it 's  impossible 
not  to  be  civil ;  and  it 's  very  embarrassing,  don't 
you  see  ?  " 

Lilly :  "  Let  me  comfort  you,  Miss  Bellingham. 
It  will  be  the  simplest  thing  in  the  world.  We  're 
all  on  the  same  level  in  the  Ponkwasset  Hotel. 
The  landlord  will  bring  him  up  during  the  evening 
and  introduce  him.  Our  table  girls  teach  school 
in  the  winter  and  are  as  good  as  anybody.  Mine 
calls  me  '  Lilly,'  and  I  'm  so  small  I  can't  help  it. 


16  Out  of  the   Question. 

They  dress  up  in  the  afternoon,  and  play  the  piano. 
The  cook 's  as  affable,  when  you  meet  her  in  so 
ciety,  as  can  be." 

Maggie:  "Lilly!" 

Leslie,  listening  to  Miss  Roberts  with  whimsical 
trepidation :  "  Well,  this  certainly  complicates  mat 
ters.  But  I  think  we  shall  be  able  to  manage." 
At  a  sound  of  voices  in  the  hall  without,  Miss  Bel- 
lingham  starts  from  her  chair  and  runs  to  the  cor 
ridor,  where  she  is  heard :  "  Thanks  ever  so  much. 
So  very  good  of  you  to  take  all  this  trouble.  Come 
into  the  parlor,  mamma  —  there  's  nobody  there 
but  Maggie  Wallace  and  Miss  Roberts  —  and  we  '11 
leave  our  things  there  till  after  tea."  She  reen- 
ters  the  parlor  with  her  mother  and  her  aunt  Kate, 
Mrs.  Murray;  after  whom  comes  Stephen  Blake 
with  Leslie's  bag  in  his  hand,  and  the  wraps  of  the 
other  ladies  over  his  arm.  His  dress,  which  is  evi 
dently  a  prosperous  fortuity  of  the  clothing-store, 
takes  character  from  his  tall,  sinewy  frame  ;  a  smile 
of  somewhat  humorous  patience  lights  his  black 
eyes  and  shapes  his  handsome  moustache,  as  he 
waits  in  quiet  self-possession  the  pleasure  of  the 
ladies. 


in. 

MRS.   BELLIXGHAM,  MRS.  MURRAY,  and  the 
YOUNG  GIRLS. 

Mrs.  Bellingham,  a  matronly,  middle-aged  lady 
of  comfortable,  not  cumbrous  bulk,  taking  Miss 
Wallace  by  the  hand  and  kissing  her :  "  My  dear 
child,  how  pleasant  it  is  to  see  you  so  strong  again  ! 
You  're  a  living  testimony  to  the  excellence  of  the 
air  !  How  well  you  look  ! " 

Leslie :  "  Mamma,  —  Miss  Roberts."  Mrs.  Bel- 
lingham  murmurously  shakes  hands  with  Miss 
Roberts,  and  after  some  kindly  nods  and  smiles, 
and  other  shows  of  friendliness,  provisionally  and 
expectantly  quiesces  into  a  corner  of  the  sofa,  while 
her  sister-in-law  comes  aggressively  forward  to  as 
sume  the  burden  of  conversation. 

Mrs.  Murray:  "Well,  a  more  fatiguing  drive 
I  certainly  never  knew !  How  do  you  do,  Mag 
gie?"  She  kisses  Miss  Wallace  in  a  casual,  unin- 
2 


18  Out  of  the  Question. 

terested  way,  and  takes  Lilly's  hand.  "  Is  n't  this 
Miss  Roberts  ?  I  am  Mrs.  Murray.  I  used  to 
know  your  family  —  your  uncle  George,  before 
that  dreadful  business  of  his.  I  believe  it  all  caine 
out  right ;  he  was  n't  to  blame ;  but  it  was  a  shock 
ing  experience."  Mrs.  Murray  turns  from  Lilly, 
and  refers  herself  to  the  company  in  general :  ''  It 
seems  as  if  I  should  expire  on  the  spot.  I  feel  as 
if  I  had  been  packed  away  in  my  own  hat-box  for 
a  week,  and  here,  just  as  we  arrive,  the  land 
lord  informs  us  that  he  did  n't  expect  us  till  to 
morrow  night,  and  he  has  n't  an  empty  room  in  the 
house ! " 

Maggie :  "  No  room  !  To-morrow  night !  "What 
nonsense !  Why  it 's  perfectly  frantic  !  How 
could  he  have  misunderstood  ?  Why,  it  seems  to 
me  that  I  've  done  nothing  for  a  week  past  but  tell 
him  you  were  coming  to-night ! " 

Mrs.  Murray,  sharply  :  "  I  have  no  doubt  of  it. 
But  it  does  n't  alter  the  state  of  the  case.  You 
may  tell  us  to  leave  our  things  till  after  tea,  Les 
lie.  If  they  can't  make  up  beds  on  the  sofas  and 
the  piano,  I  don't  know  where  we  're  going  to  pass 


In  the  Parlor  of  the  Ponkwasset  Hotel.       19 

the  night."  In  the  moment  of  distressful  sensation 
which  follows  Miss  Wallace  whispers  something 
eagerly  to  her  friend,  Miss  Roberts. 

Maggie,  with  a  laughing  glance  at  Leslie  and 
her  mother,  and  then  going  on  with  her  whisper 
ing  :  "  Excuse  the  little  confidence  !  " 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  Conspiracy,  I  'm  afraid. 
What  are  you  plotting,  Maggie  ?  " 

Maggie,  finishing  her  confidence :  "  Oh,  we 
needn't  make  a  mystery  of  such  a  little  thing. 
We  're  going  to  offer  you  one  of  our  rooms." 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  My  dear,  you  are  going  to 
do  nothing  of  the  kind.  We  will  never  allow  it." 

Maggie :  "  Now,  Mrs.  Bellingham,  you  break 
my  heart !  It 's  nothing,  it 's  less  than  nothing.  1 
believe  we  can  make  room  for  all  three  of  you." 

Mrs.  Murray,  promptly  :  "  Let  me  go  with  you, 
young  ladies.  I  'm  an  old  housekeeper,  and  I  can 
help  you  plan." 

Maggie :  "  Oh  do,  Mrs.  Murray.  You  can  tell 
which  room  you'd  better  take,  Lilly's  or  mine. 
Lilly's  is"  — 

Mrs.  Murray :  "  Oh !   I  had  forgotten   that  we 


20  Out  of  the   Question. 

were  detaining  you!"  Mrs.  Murray  is  about  to 
leave  the  room  with  the  two  young  girls,  when  her 
eye  falls  upon  Blake,  who  is  still  present,  with  his 
burden  of  hand-bags  and  shawls.  "  Leave  the 
thmgs  on  the  table,  please.  We  are  obliged  to 
you."  Mrs.  Murray  speaks  with  a  certain  finality 
of  manner  and  tone  which  there  is  no  mistaking ; 
Blake  stares  at  her  a  moment,  and  then,  without 
replying,  lays  down  the  things  and  turns  to  quit 
the  room ;  at  the  same  instant  Leslie  rises  with  a 
grand  air  from  her  mother's  side,  on  the  sofa,  and 
sweeps  towards  him. 

Leslie,  very  graciously :  "  Don't  let  our  private 
afflictions  drive  you  from  a  public  room,  Mr. —  " 

Blake:  « Blake." 

Leslie  :  "  Mr.  Blake.  This  is  my  mother,  Mr. 
Blake,  who  wishes  to  thank  you  for  all  your  kind 
ness  to  us." 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  Yes,  indeed,  Mr.  Blake,  we 
are  truly  grateful  to  you." 

Leslie,  with  increasing  significance  :  "  And  my 
aunt,  Mrs.  Murray ;  and  my  friend,  Miss  Wallace  ; 
and  Miss  Roberts."  Blake  bows  to  each  of  the 


In  the  Parlor  of  the  Ponkwasset  Hotel.      21 

ladies  as  they  are  named,  but  persists  in  his  move 
ment  to  quit  the  room  ;  Leslie  impressively  offers 
him  her  hand.  "  Must  you  go  ?  Thank  you,  ever, 
ever  so  much  ! "  She  follows  him  to  the  door  in 
his  withdrawal,  and  then  turns  and  confronts  her 
aunt  with  an  embattled  front  of  defiance. 

Maggie,  with  an  effort  breaking  the  embarrassing 
silence :     "  Come,  Lilly.     Let   us  go  and  take  a 

look  at  our  resources.    We  '11  be  back  in  a  moment 

i 

Mrs.  Bellingham." 


IV. 

MRS.   BELLIXGHAM   and  LESLIE  ;    afterwards  MRS. 
MURRAY  and  MAGGIE. 

Leslie,  coming  abruptly  forward  as  her  aunt  goes 
out  with  the  two  young  girls,  and  drooping  meekly 
in  front  of  her  mother,  who  remains  seated  on  the 
sofa :  "  Well,  mamma !  " 

Mrs.  JBellingham,  tranquilly  contemplating  her 
for  a  moment :  "  Well,  Leslie ! "  She  pauses,  and 
again  silently  regards  her  daughter.  "  Perhaps  you 
may  be  said  to  have  overdone  it." 

Leslie,  passionately:  "  I  can't  help  it,  mother! 
I  could  n't  see  him  sent  away  in  that  insolent  man 
ner,  I  don't  care  who  or  what  he  is.  Aunt  Kate's 
tone  was  outrageous,  atrocious,  hideous !  And 
after  accepting,  yes,  demanding  every  service  he 
could  possibly  render,  the  whole  afternoon !  It 
made  me  blush  for  her,  and  I  was  n't  going  to 
<tand  it." 


In  the  Parlor  of  the  Ponkwasset  Hotel.      23 

Mrs.  Bellingham  :  "  If  you  mean  by  all  that  that 
your  poor  aunt  is  a  very  ungracious  and  exacting 
woman,  I  shall  not  dispute  you.  But  she  's  your 
father's  sister ;  and  she 's  very  much  older  than  you. 
You  seem  to  have  forgotten,  too,  that  your  mother 
was  present  to  do  any  justice  that  was  needed.  It 's 
very  unfortunate  that  he  should  have  been  able  to 
do  us  so  many  favors,  but  that  can't  be  helped  now. 
It 's  one  of  the  risks  of  coming  to  these  out-of-the- 
way  places,  that  you  're  so  apt  to  be  thrown  in  with 
nondescript  people  that  you  don't  know  how  to  get 
rid  of  afterwards.  And  now  that  he  's  been  so  cor 
dially  introduced  to  us  all !  Well,  I  hope  you 
won't  have  to  be  crueller  in  the  end,  my  dear,  than 
your  aunt  meant  to  be  in  the  beginning.  So  far, 
of  course,  he  has  behaved  with  perfect  delicacy ; 
but  you  must  see  yourself,  Leslie,  that  even  as  a 
mere  acquaintance  he  's  quite  out  of  the  question  ; 
that  however  kind  and  thoughtful  he  's  been,  and 
no  one  could  have  been  more  so,  he  is  n't  a  gentle 
man." 

Leslie,  impatiently  :  "  Well,  then,  mother,  I  am! 
And  so  are  you.  And  I  think  we  are  bound  to 


24  Out  of  the   Question. 

behave  like  gentlemen  at  any  cost.  I  did  n't  mean 
to  ignore  you.  I  did  n't  consider.  I  acted  as  I 
thought  Charley  would  have  done." 

Mrs.'  Bellingham  :  "  Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear  ! 
Don't  you  see  there  's  a  very  important  difference  ? 
Your  brother  is  a  man,  and  he  can  act  without  ref 
erence  to  consequences.  But  you  are  a  young  lady, 
and  you  can't  be  as  gentlemanly  as  you  like  without 
being  liable  to  misinterpretation.  I  shall  expect 
you  to  behave  very  discreetly  indeed  from  this  time 
forth.  We  must  consider  now  how  our  new  friend 
can  be  kindly,  yet  firmly  and  promptly,  dropped." 

Leslie :  "  Oh,  it 's  another  of  those  embarrass 
ments  that  aunt  Kate  's  always  getting  me  into  !  I 
was  discreet  about  it  till  she  acted  so  horridly. 
You  can  ask  Maggie  if  I  did  n't  talk  in  the  wisest 
way  about  it ;  like  a  perfect  —  owl.  I  saw  it  just 
as  you  do,  mamma,  and  I  was  going  to  drop  him, 
and  so  I  will,  yet .;  but  I  could  n't  see  him  so  un 
gratefully  trampled  on.  It 's  all  her  doing  !  Who 
wanted  to  come  here  to  this  out-of-the-way  place  ? 
Why,  aunt  Kate,  —  when  I  was  eager  to  go  to 
Conway  !  I  declare  it  's  too  bad  ! " 


In  the  Parlor  of  the  Ponkwasset  Hotel.      25 

Mrs.  Bellingham  :  "  That  will  do,  Leslie." 

Leslie :  "  And  now  she 's  gone  off  with  those 
poor  girls  to  crowd  them  out  of  house  and  home,  I 
suppose.  It 's  a  shame  !  Why  did  you  let  her, 
mamma  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  For  the  same  reason  that  I 
let  you  talk  on,  my  dear,  when  I  've  bidden  you 
stop." 

Leslie :  "  Oh,  you  dear,  kind  old  mamma,  you  ! 
You  're  a  gentleman,  and  you  always  were !  I 
only  wish  I  could  be  half  like  you !  "  She  throws 
her  arms  round  her  mother's  neck  aiid  kisses  her. 
"  I  know  you  're  right  about  this  matter,  but  you 
must  n't  expect  me  to  acknowledge  that  aunt  Kate 
is.  If  you  both  said  exactly  the  same  thing,  you 
would  be  right  and  she  would  be  wrong,  you  'd  say 
it  so  differently  ! " 

Mrs.  Murray,  who  returns  alone  with  signs  of 
discontent  and  perplexity,  and  flings  herself  into 
a  chair  :  "  Their  rooms  are  mere  coops,  and  I  don't 
see  how  even  two  of  us  are  to  squeeze  into  one  of 
them.  It 's  little  better  than  impertinence  to  offer 
»t  to  us.  I  've  been  down  to  see  the  landlord  again, 


26  Out  of  the   Question. 

and  you'll  be  pleased  to  know,  Marion,  that  the 
only  vacant  room  in  the  house  had  been  engaged 
by  the  person  to  whom  we  've  all  just  had  the 
honor  of  an  introduction."  Leslie  makes  an  im 
petuous  movement,  as  if  she  were  about  to  speak, 
but  at  a  gesture  from  her  mother  she  restrains  her 
self,  and  Mrs.  Murray  continues :  "  Of  course,  if 
he  had  been  a  gentleman,  in  the  lowest  sense  of 
the  word,  he  would  have  offered  his  room  to  ladies 
who  had  none,  at  once.  As  long  as  he  could  make 
social  capital  out  of  his  obtrusive  services  to  us  he 
was  very  profuse  with  them,  but  as  soon  as  it  came 
to  a  question  of  real  self-sacrifice — to  giving  up  his 
own  ease  and  comfort  for  a  single  night" —  A 
bell  rings,  and  at  the  sound  Mrs.  Bellingham  rises. 
Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  I  suppose  that 's  for  supper. 
I  think  a  cup  of  tea  will  put  a  cheerfuller  face  on 
our  affairs.  I  don't  at  all  agree  with  you  about 
Mr.  Blake's  -obligation  to  give  up  his  room,  nor 
about  his  services  to  us  this  afternoon  ;  I  'm  sure 
common  justice  requires  us  to  acknowledge  that  he 
was  everything  that  was  kind  and  thoughtful.  Oh, 
you  good  child  ! "  —  as  Miss  Wallace  appears  at 


In  the  Parlor  of  the  Porikwasset  Hotel.      27 

the  door,  —  "  have  you  come  to  show  us  the  way 
to  supper  ?  Are  you  quite  sure  you  've  not  gone 
without  tea  on  our  account  as  well  as  given  up 
your  room  ?  "  She  puts  her  arm  fondly  round  the 
young  girl's  waist,  and  presses  her  cheek  against 
her  own  breast. 

Maggie,  with  enthusiasm:  Oh,  Mrs.  Bellingham, 
you  know  I  would  n't  ask  anything  better  than  to 
starve  on  your  account.  I  wish  I  had  n't  been 
to  tea !  I  'm  afraid  that  you  '11  think  the  room 
is  a  very  slight  offering  when  you  come  to  see  it 
—  it  is  such  a  little  ^coom ;  why,  when  I  took  Mrs. 
Murray  into-it,  it  seemed  all  at  once  as  if  I  saw  it 

through  the  wrong^g^.of  an  opera-glass  —  it  did 

•t  ~ 
dwindle  so  ! " 

Leslie :  "  Never  mind,  Maggie  ;  you  're  only  too 
good,  as  it  is.  If  your  room  was  an  inch  bigger, 
we  could  n't  bear  it.  I  hope  you  may  be  without  a 
roof  over  your  head  yourself,  some  day  !  Can  I 
say  anything  handsomer  than  that  ?  Don't  wait 
for  me,  mamma ;  I  '11  find  the  dining-room  myself. 
I  'm  rather  too  crumpled  even  for  a  houseless  wan 
derer."  She  opens  her  bag  where  it  stands  on  the 


28  Out  of  the   Question. 

table.  "  I  am  going  to  make  a  flying  toilet  at  one 
of  these  glasses.  Do  you  think  any  one  will  come 
in,  Maggie  ?  " 

Maggie :  "  There  is  n't  the  least  danger.  This  is 
the  parlor  of  the  "  transients,"  as  they  call  them, 
—  the  occasional  guests,  —  and  Lilly  and  I  have  it 
mostly  to  ourselves  when  there  are  no  transients. 
The  regular  boarders  stay  in  the  lower  parlor. 
Shan't  I  help  you,  Leslie  ?  " 

Leslie,  rummaging  through  her  bag :  "  No,  in 
deed!  It's  only  a  question  of  brush  and  hair-pins. 
Do  go  with  mamma !  "  As  Maggie  obeys,  Leslie 
finds  her  brush,  and  going  to  one  of  the  mirrors 
touches  the  blonde  masses  of  her  hair,  and  then  re 
mains  a  moment,  lightly  turning  her  head  from  side 
to  side  to  get  the  effect.  She  suddenly  claps  her 
hand  to  one  ear.  "  Oh,  horrors  !  That  ear-drop  's 
gone  again !  "  She  runs  to  the  table,  reopens  her 
bag,  and  searches  it  in  every  part,  talking  rapidly 
to  herself.  "  Well,  really,  it  seems  as  if  sorrows 
would  never  end  !  To  think  of  that  working  out  a 
third  time !  To  think  of  my  coming  away  without 
getting  the  clasp  fixed !  And  to  think  of  my  not 


In  the  Parlor  of  the  Poiikwasset  Hotel.       29 

leaving  them  in  my  trunk  at  the  station!  Oh 
dear  me,  I  shall  certainly  go  wild  !  What  shall  I 
do  ?  It  is  n't  in  the  bag  at  all.  It  must  be  on  the 
floor."  Keeping  her  hand  in  helpless  incredulity 
upon  the  ear  from  which  the  jewel  is  missing,  she 
scrutinizes  the  matting  far  and  near,  with  a  coun 
tenance  of  acute  anguish.  Footsteps  are  heard 
approaching  the  door,  where  they  hesitatingly  ar 
rest  themselves.  "  Have  you  come  back  for  me  ? 
Oh,  I  've  met  with  such  a  calamity !  I  've  lost 
one  of  my  ear-Hugs.  I  could  cry.  Do  come  and 
help  me  mouse  for  it."  There  is  no  response  to 
this  invitation,  and  Leslie,  lifting  her  eyes,  in  a 
little  dismay  confronts  the  silent  intruder.  "  Mr. 
Blake ! " 


V. 

LESLIE  and  BLAKE. 

Blake :  "  Excuse  me.  I  expected  to  find  your 
mother  here.  I  did  n't  mean  to  disturb  "  — 

Leslie,  haughtily  :  "  There 's  no  disturbance.  It  'B 
a  public  room:  I  had  forgotten  that  Mamma 
has  gone  to  tea.  I  thought  it  was  my  friend  Miss 
Wallace.  I  "  —  With  a  flash  of  indignation : 
"  When  you  knew  it  was  n't,  why  did  you  let 
me  speak  to  you  in  that  way  ?  " 

Blake,  with  a  smile  :  "  I  could  n't  know  whom 
you  took  me  for,  and  I  had  n't  time  to  prevent  your 
speaking." 

Leslie :  "  You  remained." 

Blake,  with  a  touch  of  resentment  tempering  his 
amusement :  "  I  could  n't  go  away  after  I  had  come 
without  speaking  to  you.  It  was  Mrs.  Bellingham 
I  was  looking  for.  I  'm  sorry  not  to  find  her,  and 
I  '11  go,  now." 


In  the  Parlor  of  the  Ponkw asset  Hotel.      31 

Leslie,  hastily  :  "  Oh  no  !  I  beg  your  pardon. 
I  did  n't  mean  "  — 

Blake,  advancing  toward  her,  and  stooping  to 
pick  up  something  from  the  floor,  near  the  table : 
"  Is  this  what  you  lost  ?  —  if  I  've  a  right  to  know 
that  you  lost  anything." 

Leslie :  "  Oh,  my  ear-ring !  Oh,  thanks !  How 
did  you  see  it?  I  thought  I  had  looked  and  felt 
everywhere."  A  quick  color  flies  over  her  face  as 
she  takes  the  jewel  from  the  palm  of  his  hand. 
She  turns  to  the  mirror,  and,  seizing  the  tip  of  her 
delicate  ear  between  the  thumb  and  forefinger  of 
one  hand,  hooks  the  pendant  into  place  with  the 
other,  and  then  gives  her  head  a  little  shake ;  the 
young  man  lightly  sighs.  She  turns  toward  him, 
with  the  warmth  still  lingering  in  her  cheeks. 
"  I  'm  ever  so  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Blake.  I 
wish  I  had  your  gift  of  doing  all  sorts  of  services 
—  favors  —  to  people.  I  wish  I  could  find  some 
thing  for  you." 

Blake  :  "  I  wish  you  could  —  if  it  were  the  key 
to  my  room,  which  I  came  back  in  hopes  of  find 
ing.  I  Ve  mislaid  it  somewhere,  and  I  thought  I 


82  Out  of  the   Question. 

might  have  put  it  down  with  your  shawls  here  on 
the  table."  Leslie  promptly  lifts  one  of  the 
shawls,  and  the  key  drops  from  it.  "  That 's  it 
Miss  Bellingham,  I  have  a  favor  to  ask :  will  you 
give  this  key  to  your  mother  ?  " 

Leslie  :  "  This  key  ?  " 

Blake :  "  I  have  found  a  place  to  sleep  at  a 
farm-house  just  down  the  road,  and  I  want  your 
mother  to  take  my  room  ;  I  have  n't  looked  into  it 
yet,  and  I  don't  know  that  it 's  worth  taking.  But 
I  suppose  it 's  better  than  no  room  at  all ;  and  I 
know  you  have  none." 

Leslie,  with  cold  hauteur,  after  looking  absently 
at  him  for  a  moment :  "  Thanks.  It 's  quite  im 
possible.  My  mother  would  never  consent." 

Elake  :  "  The  room  will  stand  empty,  then.  I 
meant  to  give  it  up  from  the  first,  —  as  soon  as  I 
found  that  you  were  not  provided  for,  —  but  I 
hated  to  make  a  display  of  it  before  all  the  people 
down  there  in  the  office.  I  '11  go  now  and  leave 
the  key  with  the  landlord,  as  I  ought  to  have  done, 
without  troubling  you.  But  —  I  had  hardly  the 
chance  of  doing  so  after  we  came  here." 


In  the  Parlor  of  the  Ponkwasset  Hotel.      33 

Leslie,  with  enthusiasm :  "  Oh,  Mr.  Blake,  do 
you  really  mean  to  give  us  your  room  after  you  've 
been  so  odiously  —  Oh,  it 's  too  bad ;  it 's  too 
bad  !  You  must  n't ;  no,  you  shall  not." 

Blake :  "  I  will  leave  the  key  on  the  table  here 
Good  night.  Or — I  shall  not  see  you  in  the 
morning  :  perhaps  I  had  better  say  good-by." 

Leslie :  ''  Good-by  ?     In  the  morning  ?  " 

Blake  :  "  I  've  changed  my  plans,  and  I  'm  going 
away  to-morrow.  Good-by." 

Leslie  :  "  Going  —  Mamma  will  be  very  sorry 
to  —  Oh,  Mr.  Blake,  I  hope  you  are  not  going 
because —  But  indeed —  I  want  you  to  be 
lieve  "  — 

Blake,  devoutly  :  "  I  believe  it.  Good-by  !  " 
He  turns  away  to  go,  and  Leslie,  standing  bewil 
dered  and  irresolute,  lets  him  leave  the  room ; 
then  she  hastens  to  the  door  after  him,  and  encoun 
ters  her  mother. 
3 


VI. 

MRS.    BELLIXGHAM    and    LESLIE;    tJien    MRS. 
MURRAY. 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  u  Well,  Leslie.  Are  you 
quite  ready  ?  We  went  to  look  at  Maggie's  room 
before  going  down  to  tea.  It 's  small,  but  we  shall 
manage  somehow.  Come,  dear.  She 's  waiting 
for  us  at  the  head  of  the  stairs.  Why,  Leslie  !  " 

Leslie,  touching  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes : 
"  I  was  a  little  overwrought,  mamma.  I  'm  tired." 
After  a  moment :  "  Mamma,  Mr.  Blake  "  — 

Mrs.  Bellingham,  with  a  look  at  her  daughter : 
"  I  met  him  in  the  hall." 

Leslie :  "  Yes,  he  has  been  here ;  and  I  thought 
I  had  lost  one  of  my  ear-rings  ;  and  of  course  he 
found  it  on  the  floor  the  instant  he  came  in ; 
and"  — 

Mrs.  Murray,  surging  into  the  room,  and  going 
tip  to  the  table :  «  Well,  Marion,  the  tea  —  What 


In  the  Parlor  of  the  Ponkwasset  Hotel.       35 

key  is  this  ?  What  in  the  world  is  Leslie  crying 
about?" 

Leslie,  with  supreme  disregard  of  her  aunt,  and 
adamantine  self-control :  "  Mr.  Blake  had  come  "  — 
she  hands  the  key  to  Mrs.  Bellingham  —  "  to  offer 
you  the  key  of  his  room.  He  asked  me  to  give 
it." 

Mrs.  Bellingham  :   "  The  key  of  his  room  ?  " 

Leslie :  "  He  offers  you  his  room ;  he  had  always 
meant  to  offer  it." 

Mrs.  Bellingham,  gravely :  "  Mr.  Blake  had  no 
right  to  know  that  we  had  no  room.  It  is  too  great 
a  kindness.  "We  can't  accept  it,  Leslie.  I  hope 
you  told  him  so,  my  dear." 

Leslie :  "  Yes,  mamma.  But  he  said  he  was  going 
to  lodge  at  one  of  the  farm-houses  in  the  neighbor-, 
hood,  and  the  room  would  be  vacant  if  you  did  n't 
take  it.  I  could  n't  prevent  his  leaving  the  key." 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  That  is  all  very  well.  But 
it  does  n't  alter  the  case,  as  far  as  we  are  concerned. 
It  is  very  good  of  Mr.  Blake,  but  after  what  has  oc 
curred,  it 's  simply  impossible.  We  can't  take  it." 

Mrs.   Murray:    "Occurred?    Not   take   it?    Of 


36  Out  of  the   Question. 

course  we  will  take  it,  Marion !  I  certainly  am  as 
tonished.  The  man  will  get  a  much  better  bed  at 
the  farmer's  than  he's  accustomed  to.  You  talk 
as  if  it  were  some  act  of  self-sacrifice.  I  've  no 
doubt  he 's  made  the  most  of  it.  I  've  no  doubt 
he 's  given  it  an  effect  of  heroism  —  or  tried  to. 
But  that  you  should  fall  in  with  his  vulgar  con 
ception  of  the  affair,  Marion,  and  Leslie  should  be 
affected  to  tears  by  his  magnanimity,  is  a  little  too 
comical.  One  would  think,  really,  that  he  had  im 
periled  life  and  limb  on  our  account.  All  this  sen 
timent  about  a  room  on  the  third  floor!  Give  the 
key  to  me,  Marion."  She  possesses  herself  of  it 
from  Mrs.  Bellingham's  passive  hand.  "  Leslie  will 
wish  to  stay  with  you,  so  as  to  be  near  her  young 
friends.  /  will  occupy  this  vacant  room. " 


II. 

"IN  FATRE  FOREST." 


I. 

Two   TRAMPS. 

UNDER  the  shelter  of  some  pines  near  a  lonely 
by-road,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Ponkwasset 
Hotel,  lie  two  tramps  asleep.  One  of  them,  hav 
ing  made  his  bed  of  the  pine-boughs,  has  pillowed 
his  head  upon  the  bundle  he  carries  by  day ;  the 
other  is  stretched,  face  downward,  on  the  thick 
brown  carpet  of  pine-needles.  The  sun,  which 
strikes  through  the  thin  screen  of  the  trees  upon 
the  bodies  of  the  two  men,  is  high  in  the  heavens. 
The  rattle  of  wheels  is  heard  from  time  to  time 
on  the  remoter  highway ;  the  harsh  clatter  of  a 
kingfisher,  poising  over  the  water,  comes  from  the 
direction  of  the  river  near  at  hand.  A  squirrel  de 
scends  the  trunk  of  an  oak  near  the  pines  under 
which  the  men  lie,  and  at  sight  of  them  stops, 
barks  harshly,  and  then,  as  one  of  them  stirs  in  his 


40  Out  of  the   Question. 

sleep,  whisks  back  into  the  top  of  the  oak.  It  is 
the  luxurious  tramp  on  the  pine-boughs  who  stirs, 
and  who  alertly  opens  his  eyes  and  sits  up  in  his 
bed,  as  if  the  noisy  rush  of  the  squirrel  had  startled 
him  from  his  sleep. 

First  Tramp,  casting  a  malign  glance  at  the  top 
of  the  oak  :  "  If  I  had  a  fair  shot  at  you  with  this 
club,  my  fine  fellow,  I  'd  break  you  of  that  trick  of 
waking  people  before  the  bell  rings  in  the  morning, 
and  I  'd  give  'em  broiled  squirrel  for  breakfast  when 
they  did  get  up."  He  takes  his  bundle  into  his 
lap,  and,  tremulously  untying  it,  reveals  a  motley 
heap  of  tatters ;  from  these  he  searches  out  a  flask, 
which  he  holds  against  the  light,  shakes  at  his  ear, 
and  inverts  upon  his  lips.  "  Not  a  drop ;  not  a 
square  smell,  even  !  I  dreamt  it"  He  lies  down 
with  a  groan,  and  remains  with  his  head  pillowed 
in  his  hands.  Presently  he  reaches  for  his  stick, 
and  again  rising  to  a  sitting  posture  strikes  his 
sleeping  comrade  across  the  shoulders.  "  Get 
up!" 

Second  Tramp,  who  speaks  with  a  slight  brogue, 
briskly  springing  to  his  feet,  and  rubbing  his  shoul 
ders  :  "  And  what  for,  my  strange  bedfellow  ?  " 


« In  Fayre  Forest."  41 

First  Tramp:  "For  breakfast.  What  do  peo 
ple  generally  get  up  for  in  the  morning  ?  " 

Second  Tramp :  "  Upon  my  soul,  I  'd  as  sooc 
have  had  mine  in  bed ;  I  've  a  day  of  leisure  be 
fore  me.  And  let  me  say  a  word  to  you,  my 
friend :  the  next  time  you  see  a  gentleman  dream 
ing  of  one  of  the  most  elegant  repasts  in  the  world, 
and  just  waiting  for  his  stew  to  cool,  don't  you  in 
trude  upon  him  with  that  little  stick  of  yours.  I 
don't  care  for  a  stroke  or  two  in  sport,  but  when  I 
think  of  the  meal  I  've  lost,  I  could  find  it  in  my 
heart  to  break  your  head  for  you,  you  ugly  brute. 
Have  you  got  anything  to  eat  there  in  your  ward 
robe  ?  " 

First  Tramp  :  "  Not  a  crumb." 

Second  Tramp :  "  Or  to  drink  ?  " 

First  Tramp  :  "  Not  a  drop." 

Second  Tramp  :  "  Or  to  smoke  ?  " 

First  Tramp  :  «  No." 

Second  Tramp  :  "  Faith,  you  're  nearer  a  broken 
head  than  ever,  me  friend.  Wake  a  man  out  of  a 
dream  of  that  sort !  " 

First  Tramp :  "  I  've  had  enough  of  this. 
What  do  you  intend  to  do  ?  " 


42  Out  of  the   Question. 

Second  Tramp :  "  I  'm  going  to  assume  the 
character  of  an  impostor,  and  pretend  at  the  next 
farm-house  that  I  have  n't  had  any  breakfast,  and 
have  n't  any  money  to  buy  one.  It 's  a  bare-faced 
deceit,  I  know,  but "  —  looking  down  at  his  broken 
shoes  and  tattered  clothes  —  "I  flatter  myself  that 
I  dress  the  part  pretty  well.  To  be  sure,  the 
women  are  not  as  ready  to  listen  as  they  were 
once.  The  tramping-trade  is  overdone  ;  there 's 
too  many  in  it ;  the  ladies  can't  believe  we  're  all 
destitute ;  it  don't  stand  to  reason." 

First  Tramp  :  "  I  'm  tired  of  the  whole  thing." 
Second  Tramp :  "  I  don't  like  it  myself.  But 
there  's  worse  things.  There 's  work,  for  example. 
By  my  soul,  there  's  nothing  disgusts  me  like  these 
places  where  they  tell  you  to  go  out  and  hoe  pota 
toes,  and  your  breakfast  will  be  ready  in  an  hour. 
I  never  could  work  with  any  more  pleasure  on  an 
empty  stomach  than  a  full  one.  And  the  poor 
devils  always  think  they  Ve  done  something  so  fine 
when  they  say  that,  and  the  joke  's  so  stale !  I 
can  tell  them  I'm  not  to  be  got  rid  of  so  easy. 
I'm  not  the  lazy,  dirty  vagabond  I  look,  at  all; 


"In  Fayre  Forest."  43 

I'm  the  inevitable  result  of  the  conflict  between 
labor  and  capital ;  I  'm  the  logical  consequence  of 
the  prevailing  corruption.  I  read  it  on  the  bit  of 
newspaper  they  gave  me  round  my  dinner,  yester 
day  ;  it  was  cold  beef  of  a  quality  that  you  don't 
often  find  in  the  country." 

First  Tramp,  sullenly :  "  I  'm  sick  of  the  whole 
thing.  I  'm  going  out  of  it." 

Second  Tramp :  "  And  what  '11  you  do  ?  Are  ye 
going  to  work  ?  " 

First  Tramp:  "To  work?     No!     To  steal." 

Second  Tramp  :  "  Faith,  I  don't  call  that  going 
out  of  it,  then.  It 's  quite  in  the  line  of  business. 
You  're  no  bad  dab  at  a  hen-roost,  now,  as  I  know 
very  well ;  and  for  any  little  thing  that  a  gentle 
man  can  shove  under  his  coat,  while  the  lady  of  the 
house  has  her  back  turned  buttering  his  lunch  for 
him,  I  don't  know  the  man  I  'd  call  master." 

First  Tramp :  "  If  I  could  get  a  man  to  tell  me 
the  time  of  day  by  a  watch  I  liked,  I'd  as  lief 
knock  him  over  as  look  at  him." 

Second  Tramp :  "  Oh,  if  it 's  high-way  robbery 
you  mean,  partner,  I  don't  follow  you." 


44  Out  of  the   Question. 

First  Tramp  :  *  "What 's  the  difference  ?  " 

Second  Tramp :  "  Not  much,  if  you  take  it  one 
way,  but  a  good  deal  if  you  take  it  another.  It 's 
the  difference  between  petty  larceny  and  grand  lar 
ceny  ;  it 's  the  difference  between  three  months  in 
the  House  of  Correction  and  ten  years  in  the  State's 
Prison,  if  you  're  caught,  not  to  mention  the  risks 
of  the  profession." 

First  Tramp :  "  I  'd  take  the  risks  if  I  saw  my 
chance."  He  lies  down  with  his  arms  crossed  under 
his  head,  and  stares  up  into  the  pine.  His  comrade 
glances  at  him,  and  then  moves  stiffly  out  from  the 
shelter  of  the  trees,  and,  shading  his  eyes  with  one 
hand,  peers  down  the  road. 

Second  Tramp :  "  I  did  n't  know  but  I  might  see 
your  chance,  partner.  You  would  n't  like  an  old 
gentleman  with  a  load  of  potatoes  to  begin  on,  would 
ye  ?  There 's  one  just  gone  up  the  cross-road.  And 
yonder  goes  an  umbrella-mender.  I'm  afraid  we 
shan't  take  any  purses  to  speak  of,  in  this  neighbor 
hood.  "Whoosh!  "Wait  a  bit  —  here's  somebody 
coming  this  way."  The  first  tramp  is  sufficiently 
interested  to  sit  up.  "  Faith,  here 's  your  chance 


"In  Fayre  Forest."  45 

at  last,  then,  if  you  're  in  earnest,  my  friend  ;  but  h. 
stands  six  feet  in  its  stockings,  and  it  carries  a  stick 
as  well  as  a  watch.  I  won't  ask  a  share  of  the  plun 
der,  partner  ;  I  've  rags  enough  of  my  own  without 
wanting  to  divide  your  property  with  the  gentleman 
coming."  He  goes  back  and  lies  down  at  the  foot 
of  one  of  the  trees,  while  the  other,  who  has  risen 
from  his  pine-boughs,  comes  cautiously  forward ; 
after  a  glance  at  the  approaching  wayfarer  he  flings 
away  his  cudgel,  and,  taking  a  pipe  from  his  pocket 
drops  into  a  cringing  attitude.  The  Irishman  grins. 
In  another  moment  Blake  appears  from  under  the 
cover  of  the  woods  and  advances  with  long  strides, 
striking  with  his  stick  at  the  stones  in  the  road  as 
he  comes  on,  in  an  absent-minded  fashion. 


II. 

BLAKE  and  the  TRAMPS. 

First  Tramp :  "  I  say,  mister  ! "  Blake  looks 
up,  and  his  eye  falls  upon  the  squalid  figure  of  the 
tramp  ;  he  stops.  "  Could  n't  you  give  a  poor  fellow 
a  little  tobacco  for  his  pipe  ?  A  smoke  comes  good, 
if  you  don 't  happen  to  know  where  you  're  going 
to  get  your  breakfast." 

Second  Tramp,  coming  forward,  with  his  pipe  in 
his  hand  :  "  True  for  you,  partner.  A  little  tobacco 
in  the  hand  is  worth  a  deal  of  breakfast  in  the  bush." 
Blake  looks  from  one  to  the  other,  and  then  takes 
a  paper  of  tobacco  from  his  pocket  and  gives  it  to 
the  first  tramp,  who  helps  himself  and  passes  it  to 
his  comrade ;  the  latter  offers  to  return  it  after  fill 
ing  his  pipe ;  Blake  declines  it  with  a  wave  of  his 
hand,  and  walks  on. 

Second  Tramp,  calling  after  him :  "  God  bless 
you  !  May  you  never  want  it ! " 


"In  Fayre  Forest"  47 

First  Tramp  :  "  Thank  you,  mister.  You're  a 
gentleman  ! " 

Blake  :  "  All  right,"  He  goes  out  of  sight  under 
the  trees  down  the  road,  and  then  suddenly  reap 
pears  and  walks  up  to  the  two  tramps,  who  remain 
where  he  left  them  and  are  feeling  in  their  pockets 
for  a  match.  "  Did  one  of  you  call  me  a  gentle 
man  ? " 

First  Tramp :  "  Yes,  I  did,  mister.  No  offense 
in  that,  I  hope  ? " 

Blake :  "  No,  but  why  did  you  do  it  ?  " 

First  Tramp  :  "  Well,  you  did  n't  ask  us  why 
we  didn't  go  to  work;  and  you  didn't  say  that 
men  who  had  n't  any  money  to  buy  breakfast  had 
better  not  smoke ;  and  you  gave  us  this  tobacco. 
I  '11  call  any  man  a  gentleman  that  '11  do  that" 

Blake  :  "  Oh,  that 's  a  gentleman,  is  it  ?  All 
right."  He  turns  to  go  away,  when  the  second 
tramp  detains  him. 

Second  Tramp :  "  Does  your  honor  happen  to 
have  ever  a  match  about  you  ?  "  Blake  takes  out 
his  match-case  and  strikes  a  light.  "  God  bless 
your  honor.  You  're  a  real  gentleman." 


48  Out  of  the   Question. 

Blake :  "  Then  this  makes  me  a  gentleman  past 
a  doubt?" 

Second  Tramp :    "  Sure,  it  does  that." 

Blake  :  "  I  'm  glad  to  have  the  matter  settled." 
He  walks  on  absently  as  before,  and  the  tramps 
stand  staving  a  moment  in  the  direction  in  which 
he  has  gone. 

Second  Tramp,  who  goes  back  to  the  tree  where 
he  has  been  sitting  and  stretches  himself  out  with 
his  head  on  one  arm  for  a  quiet  smoke  :  "  That 's 
a  queer  genius.  By  my  soul,  I  'd  like  to  take  the 
road  in  his  company.  Sure,  I  think  there  is  n't 
the  woman  alive  would  be  out  of  cold  victuals  and 
old  clothes  when  he  put  that  handsome  face  of  his 
in  at  the  kitchen  window." 

first  Tramp,  looking  down  the  road  :  "  I  wonder 
if  that  fellow  could  have  a  drop  of  spirits  about 
him  !  I  say,  mister ! "  calling  after  Blake.  "  Hello, 
there,  I  say ! " 

Second  Tramp ;  "  It 's  too  late,  my  worthy 
friend.  He  '11  never  hear  you  ;  and  it 's  not  likely 
he  'd  come  back  to  fill  your  flask  for  you,  if  he  did. 
A  gentleman  of  his  character  'd  think  twice  before 


"In  Fayre  Forest."  49 

he  gave  a  tramp  whiskey.  Tobacco 's  another 
thing."  He  takes  out  the  half-paper  of  tobacco, 
and  looks  at  the  label  on  it.  "  What  an  extrava 
gant  dog!  It's  the  real  cut-cavendish;  and  it 
smells  as  nice  as  it  smokes.  This  luxury  is  what 's 
destroying  the  country.  'With  the  present  reck 
less  expenditure  in  all  classes  of  the  population, 
and  the  prodigious  influx  of  ignorant  and  degraded 
foreigners,  there  must  be  a  constant  increase  of 
tramps.'  True  for  you,  Mr.  Newspaper.  'T  would 
have  been  an  act  of  benevolence  to  take  his  watch 
from  him,  partner,  and  he  never  could  tell  how 
fast  he  was  going  to  ruin.  But  you  can't  always 
befriend  a  man  six  feet  high  and  wiry  as  a  cat." 
He  offers  to  put  the  tobacco  into  his  pocket  again, 
when  his  comrade  slouches  up,  and  makes  a  clutch 
at  it. 

First  Tramp :  "  I  want  that." 

Second  Tramp  :  "  Why,  so  ye  do  } " 

First  Tramp  :  "  It 's  mine." 

Second  Tramp  :  "  I  'm  keeping  it  for  ye." 

First  Tramp :  "  I  tell  you  the  man  gave  it  to 
me." 

4 


50  Out  of  the   Question. 

Second  Tramp :  "  And  he  would  n  t  take  it 
back  from  me.  Ah,  will  you,  ye  brute  ? "  The 
.other  seizes  the  wrist  of  the  hand  with  which  the 
Irishman  holds  the  tobacco  ;  they  wrestle  together, 
when  women's  voices  are  heard  at  some  distance 
down  the  road.  "Whoosh!  Ladies  coming."  The 
first  tramp  listens,  kneeling.  The  Irishman  springs 
to  his  feet  and  thrusts  the  paper  of  tobacco  into  his 
pocket,  and,  coming  quickly  forward,  looks  down 
the  road.  "  Fortune  favors  the  brave,  partner ! 
Here  comes  another  opportunity —  three  of  them, 
faith,  and  pretty  ones  at  that !  Business  before 
pleasure ;  I  '11  put  off  that  beating  again ;  it 's  all 
the  better  for  keeping.  Besides,  it 's  not  the  thing,' 
quarreling  before  ladies."  He  is  about  to  crouch 
down  again  at  the  foot  of  the  tree  as  before,  when 
his  comrade  hastily  gathers  up  his  bundle,  and  seiz 
ing  him  by  the  arm  drags  him  back  into  the  thicket 
behind  the  pine-trees.  After  a  moment  or  two, 
three  young  ladies  come  sauntering  slowly  along 
the  road. 


III. 

LESLIE,  MAGGIE,  and  LILLY  ;  then  LESLIE  alone. 

Lilly,  delicately  sniffing  the  air :  "  Feer  fi,  fo, 
fum  ;  I  smell  the  pipe  of  an  Irishman." 

Leslie :  "  Never !  I  know  the  flavor  of  refined 
tobacco,  thanks  to  a  smoking  brother.  Oh,  what  a 
lonely  road ! " 

Lilly:  "This  loneliness  is  one  of  the  charms  of 
the  Ponkwasset  neighborhood.  When  you  're  once 
out  of  sight  of  the  hotel  and  the  picnic-grounds 
you'd  think  you  were  a  thousand  miles  away  from 
civilization.  Not  an  empty  sardine-box  or  a  torn 
paper  collar  anywhere  !  This  scent  of  tobacco  is 
an  unheard-of  intrusion." 

Maggie,  archly :  "  Perhaps  Mr.  Blake  went  this 
way.  Does  he  smoke,  Leslie  ?  " 

Leslie,  coldly :  "  Plow  should  I  know,  Maggie  ? 
A  gentleman  would  hardly  smoke  in  ladies'  com- 


52  Out  of  the   Question. 

pany  —  strange  ladies."  She  sinks  down  upon  a 
log  at  the  wayside,  and  gazes  slowly  about  with  an 
air  of  fastidious  criticism  that  gradually  changes  to 
a  rapture  of  admiration.  "  "Well,  I  certainly  think 
that,  take  it  all  in  all,  I  never  saw  anything  more 
fascinating.  It 's  wonderful !  This  little  nook  it 
self,  with  that  brown  carpet  of  needles  under  the 
pines,  and  that  heavy  fringe  of  ferns  there,  behind 
those  trunks ;  and  then  those  ghostly  birches 
stretching  up  and  away,  yonder  —  thousands  of 
them !  How  tall  and  slim  and  stylish  they  are. 
And  how  they  do  march  into  the  distance  !  I  never 
saw  such  multitudes;  and  their  lovely  paleness 
makes  them  look  as  if  one  saw  them  by  moonlight. 
Oh,  oh!  How  perfectly  divine!  If  one  could 
only  have  their  phantom-like  procession  painted ! 
But  Corot  himself  could  n't  paint  them.  Oh,  I 
must  make  some  sort  of  memorandum  —  I  won't 
have  the  presumption  to  call  it  a  sketch."  She 
takes  a  sketch-book  from  under  her  arm,  and  lays 
U  on  her  knees,  and  then  with  her  pencil  nervously 
traces  on  the  air  the  lines  of  the  distant  birches. 
"  Yes  ;  I  must.  I  never  shall  see  them  so  beauti- 


"In  Fayre  Forest."  53 

ful  again  !  Just  jot  down  a  few  lines,  and  wash  in 
the  background  when  I  get  to  the  hotel.  But 
girls  ;  you  must  n't  stay  !  Go  on  and  get  the  flow 
ers,  and  I  '11  be  done  by  the  time  you  're  back.  I 
could  n't  bear  to  have  you  overlooking  me ;  I  've 
all  the  sensitiveness  of  a  great  artist.  Do  go ! 
But  don't  be  gone  long."  She  begins  to  work  at 
her  sketch,  without  looking  at  them. 

Maggie  :  "  I  'm  so  glad,  Leslie.  I  knew  you  'd 
be  perfectly  fascinated  with  this  spot,  and  so  I 
did  n't  tell  you  about  it.  I  wanted  it  to  burst  upon 
you." 

Leslie,  with  a  little  impatient  surprise,  as  if  she 
had  thought  they  were  gone :  "  Yes,  yes ;  never 
mind.  You  did  quite  right.  Don't  stay  long." 
She  continues  to  sketch,  looking  up  now  and  then 
at  the  scene  before  her ;  but  not  glancing  at  her 
companions,  who  walk  away  from  her  some  paces, 
when  Miss  Wallace  comes  back. 

Maggie  :  "  What  time  is  it,  Leslie  ?     Leslie  !  " 

Leslie,  nervously  :  "  Oh  !  What  a  start  you  gave 
ne."  Glancing  at  her  watch :  "  It 's  nine  minutes 
past  ten  —  I  mean  ten  minutes  past  nine."  Still 
without  looking  at  her :  "  Be  back  soon." 


54  Out  of  the   Question. 

Maggie :  "  Oh,  it  is  n't  far.  Again  she  turns 
away  with  Miss  Roberts,  but  before  they  are  quite 
out  of  sight  Leslie  springs  to  her  feet  and  runs 
after  them. 

Leslie  :  "  Oh,  girls  —  girls  !  " 

Maggie,  anxiously,  starting  back  toward  her: 
"What?  What?" 

Leslie,  dreamily,  as  she  returns  to  her  place  and 
sits  down  :  "  Oh,  nothing.  I  just  happened  to 
think."  She  closes  her  eyes  to  a  narrow  line,  and 
looks  up  at  the  birches.  "  There  are  so  many  hor 
rid  stories  in  the  papers.  But  of  course  there  can't 
be  any  in  this  out-of-the-way  place,  so  far  from  the 
cities." 

Maggie  :  "  Any  what,  Leslie  ?  " 

Leslie,  remotely  :  "  Tramps." 

Maggie,  scornfully :  "  There  never  was  such  a 
thing  heard  of  in  the  whole  region." 

Leslie  :  "  I  thought  not."  She  is  again  absorbed 
in  study  of  the  birches ;  and,  after  a  moment  of 
hesitation,  the  other  two  retreat  down  the  road 
once  more,  lingering  a  little  to  look  back  in  admi 
ration  of  her  picturesque  devotion  to  art,  and  then 


"In  Fayre  Forest"  55 

vanishing  under  the  flickering  light  and  shadow. 
Leslie  works  diligently  on,  humming  softly  to  her 
self,  and  pausing  now  and  then  to  look  at  the 
birches,  for  which  object  she  rises  at  times,  and, 
gracefully  bending  from  side  to  side,  or  stooping 
forward  to  make  sure  of  some  effect  that  she  has 
too  slightly  glimpsed,  resumes  her  seat  and  begins 
anew.  "  No,  that  won't  do  !  "  —  vigorously  plying 
her  india-rubber  on  certain  lines  of  the  sketch. 
"  How  stupid  !  "  Then  beginning  to  draw  again, 
and  throwing  back  her  head  for  the  desired  dis 
tance  on  her  sketch :  "  Ah,  that 's  more  like.  Still, 
nobody  could  accuse  it  of  slavish  fidelity.  Well ! " 
She  sings :  — 

"  Through  starry  palm-roofs  on  Old  Nile 

The  full-orbed  moon  looked  clear ; 
The  bulbul  sang  to  the  crocodile, 
'  Ah,  why  that  bitter  tear  ?  ' 

"  '  With  thy  tender  breast  against  the  thorn, 

Why  that  society-smile  ? ' 
The  bird  was  mute.    In  silent  scorn 
Slow  winked  the  crocodile." 

:'  How    perfectly    ridiculous  !      Slow    winked "  — 


56  Out  of  the   Question. 

Miss  Bellingham  alternately  applies  pencil  and 
rubber  —  "  slow  winked  the  croco  —  I  never  shall 
get  that  right ;  it 's  too  bad  !  —  dik"  While  she 
continues  to  sketch,  and  sing  da  capo,  the  tramps 
creep  stealthily  from  their  covert.  Apparently  in 
accordance  with  some  preconcerted  plan,  the  sur 
lier  and  huger  ruffian  goes  down  the  road  in  the 
direction  taken  by  Leslie's  friends,  and  the  Irish 
man  stations  himself  unobserved  at  her  side  and 
supports  himself  with  both  hands  resting  upon  the 
top  of  his  stick,  in  an  attitude  of  deferential  pa 
tience  and  insinuating  gallantry.  She  ceases  sing 
ing  and  looks  up. 


IV. 

THE  YOUNG  GIRLS  and  the  TRAMPS. 

Second  Tramp :  "  Not  to  be  interrupting  you, 
miss,"  —  Leslie  stares  at  his  grinning  face  in  dumb 
and  motionless  horror,  —  "  would  ye  tell  a  poor 
traveler  the  time  of  day,  so  that  he  need  n't  be  eat 
ing  his  breakfast  prematurely,  if  he  happens  to  get 
any?" 

First  Tramp,  from  his  station  down  the  road, 
in  a  hoarse  undertone :  "  Snatch  it  out  of  her 
belt,  you  fool !  Snatch  it !  He  's  coming  back. 
Quick  ! "  Leslie  starts  to  her  feet. 

Second  Tramp :  "  Ye  see,  miss,  my  friend 's  im 
patient."  Soothingly :  "  Just  let  me  examine  your 
watch.  I  give  ye  my  honor  I  won't  hurt  you; 
don't  lose  your  presence  of  mind,  my  dear ;  don't 
be  frightened."  As  she  shrinks  back,  he  clutches 
at  her  watch-chairi. 


1\ 


58  Out  of  the  Question. 

Leslie,  in  terror-stricken  simplicity :  "  Oh,  oh, 
no !  Don't !  Don't  take  my  watch.  My  father 
gave  it  to  me  —  and  he  's  dead." 

Second  Tramp  :  "  Then  he  '11  never  miss  it,  my 
dear.  Don't  oblige  me  to  be  rude  to  a  lady. 
Give  it  here,  at  once,  that 's  a  dear." 

First  Tramp  :  "  Hurry,  hurry  !  He  's  coming !  '* 
As  the  Irishman  seizes  her  by  the  wrist,  Leslie 
utters  one  wild  shriek  after  another,  to  which  the 
other  young  girls  respond,  as  they  reappear  under 
the  trees  down  the  road. 

Maggie :  "  Leslie,  Leslie  !     What  is  it  ?  " 

Lilly,  at  sight  of  Leslie  struggling  with  the 
tramp  :  "  Oh,  help,  help,  help,  somebody  —  do !  " 

Maggie  :  "  Murder  ! " 

First  Tramp,  rushing  past  them  to  the  aid  of  his 
fellow  :  "  Clap  your  hand  over  her  mouth  !  Stop 
her  noise,  somehow  !  Choke  her  !  "  He  springs 
forward,  and  while  'the  Irishman  stifles  her  cries 
with  his  hands,  the  other  tears  the  watch-chain 
loose  from  its  fastening.  They  suddenly  release 
her,  and  as  she  reels  gasping  and  swooning  away, 
some  one  has  the  larger  villain  by  the  throat,  who 


"  Iii  Fayre  Forest."  69 

struggles  with  his  assailant  backward  into  the  un 
dergrowth,  whence  the  crash  of  broken  branches, 
with  cries  and  curses,  makes  itself  heard.  Follow 
ing  this  tumult  comes  the  noise  of  a  rush  through 
the  ferns,  and  then  rapid  footfalls,  as  of  flight  and 
pursuit  on  the  hard  road,  that  die  away  in  the  dis 
tance,  while  Maggie  and  Lilly  hang  over  Leslie, 
striving  to  make  out  from  her  incoherent  moans 
and  laments  what  has  happened. 

Maggie :  "  Oh,  Leslie,  Leslie,  Leslie,  what  was 
it  ?  Do  try  to  think !  Do  try  to  tell !  Oh,  I 
shall  go  wild  if  you  don't  tell  what 's  the  matter."  • 

Leslie :  "  Oh,  it  was  —  Oh,  oh,  I  feel  as  if  I 
should  never  be  clean  again  !  How  can  I  endure 
it  ?  That  filthy  hand  on  my  mouth !  Their 
loathsome  rags,  their  sickening  faces !  Ugh  !  Oh, 
I  shall  dream  of  it  as  long  as  I  live  !  Why,  why 
did  I  ever  come  to  this  horrid  place  ?  " 

Maggie :  "  Leslie,  —  dear,  good  Leslie,  —  what 
ttfas  it  all  ?  " 

Leslie,  panting  and  sobbing :  "  Oh,  two  horrid, 
disgusting  men  !  Don't  ask  me  !  And  they  told 
me  to  give  them  my  watch,  and  I  begged  them  not 


60  Out  of  the   Question. 

to  take  it.  And  one  was  a  hideous  little  Irish 
wretch,  and  he  kept  running  all  round  me,  and  oh, 
dear !  the  other  was  worse  than  he  was ;  yes, 
worse  !  And  he  told  him  —  oh,  girls !  —  to  choke 
me  !  And  he  came  running  up,  and  then  the  other 
put  one  of  his  hands  over  my  mouth,  and  I 
could  n't  breathe  ;  and  I  thought  I  should  die  ;  but 
I  wasn't  going  to  let  the  wretches  have  my  watch, 
if  I  could  help  it ;  and  I  kept  struggling ;  and  all 
at  once  they  ran  away,  and  "  —  putting  her  hand 
to  her  belt  —  "  Oh,  it 's  gone,  it 's  gone,  it 's  gone ! 
Oh,  papa,  papa !  The  watch  you  gave  me  is 
gone ! "  She  crouches  down  upon  the  lug,  and 
leaning  her  head  upon  her  hands  against  the  trunk 
of  a  tree  gives  way  to  her  tears  and  sobs,  while 
the  others  kneel  beside  her  in  helpless  distress. 
On  this  scene  Blake  emerges  from  the  road  down 
which  the  steps  were  heard.  His  face  is  pale,  and 
he  advances  with  his  right  arm  held  behind  him, 
while  the  left  clasps  something  which  he  extends 
as  he  speaks. 


X. 

BLAKE  and  the  YOUNG  GIRLS. 

Blake,  after  a  pause  in  which  he  stands  looking 
at  Leslie  unheeded  by  the  others :  "  Here  is  your 
watch,  Miss  Bellingham." 

Leslie,  whirling  swiftly  round  to  her  feet :  "My 
watch  ?  Oh,  where  did  you  find  it  ?  "  She  springs 
towards  him  and  joyfully  seizing  it  from  his  hand 
scans  it  eagerly,  and  then  kisses  it  in  a  rapture. 
"  Safe,  safe,  safe  !  Not  hurt  the  least !  My  pre 
cious  gift !  Oh,  how  glad  I  am  !  It 's  even  going 
yet !  How  did  you  get  it  ?  Where  did  you  get 
it?" 

Blake,  who  speaks  with  a  certain  painful  effort 
while  he  moves  slowly  away  backward  from  her : 
" I  found  it  —  I  got  it  from  the  thief." 

Leslie,  looking  confusedly  at  him:  "How  did 
you  know  they  had  it  ?  " 


62  Out  of  the   Question. 

Maggie:  "  Oh,  it  was  you,  Mr.  Blake,  who  came 
flying  past  us,  and  drove  them  away !  Did  you 
have  to  fight  them  ?  Oh,  did  they  hurt  you?  " 

Leslie :  "  It  was  you  —  Why,  how  pale  you 
look  !  There 's  blood  on  your  face  !  Why,  where 
were  you  ?  How  did  it  all  happen  ?  It  was  you 
that  drove  them  away  ?  You  ?  And  I  never 
thought  of  you !  And  I  only  thought  about  my 
self — my  watch!  I  never  can  forgive  myself." 
She  lets  fall  the  watch  from  her  heedless  grasp, 
and  he  mechanically  puts  out  the  hand  which  he 
has  been  keeping  behind  him  ;  she  impetuously 
seizes  it  in  her  own  and,  suddenly  shrinking,  he 
subdues  the  groan  that  breaks  from  him  to  a  sort 
of  gasp  and  totters  to  the  log  where  Leslie  has 
been  sitting. 

Lilly :  "  Oh,  see,  Miss  Bellingham  ;  they  've 
broken  his  wrist ! " 

Blake,  panting:  "It's  nothing;  don't — don't  —  " 

Maggie:  " Oh  dear,  he 's  going  to  faint !  What 
shall  we  do  if  he  does  ?  I  did  n't  know  they  ever 
fainted !  "  She  wrings  her  hands  in  despair,  while 
Leslie  flings  herself  upon  her  knees  at  Blake's  side. 


"In  Fayre  Forest."  63 

"Oughtn't   we   to   support  him,  somehow?     Oh 
yes  do  let 's  support  him,  all  of  us ! " 

Leslie,  imperiously :  "  Run  down  to  the  river  as 
fast  as  ever  you  can,  and  wet  your  handkerchiefs 
to  sprinkle  his  face  with."  She  passes  her  arm 
round  Blake's,  and  tenderly  gathers  his  broken 
wrist  into  her  right  hand.  "  One  can  support  him." 


III. 


A   SLIGHT  MISUNDERSTANDING. 


I. 

MRS.  MURRAY  and  MRS.  BELLINGHAM. 

THREE  weeks  after  the  events  last  represented 
Mrs.  Bellinghani  and  her  sister-in-law  are  once 
more  seated  in  the  hotel  parlor,  both  with  sewing, 
to  which  the  latter  abandons  herself  with  an  ap 
parently  exasperated  energy,  while  the  former  lets 
her  work  lie  in  her  lap,  and  listens  with  some  lady 
like  trepidation  to  what  Mrs.  Murray  is  saying. 

Mrs.  Murray  :  "  From  beginning  to  end  it  has 
been  quite  like  a  sensation  play.  Leslie  must  feel 
herself  a  heroine  of  melodrama.  She  is  sojourn 
ing  at  a  country  inn,  and  she  goes  sketching  in  the 
woods,  when  two  ruffians  set  upon  her  and  try  to 
rob  her.  Her  screams  reach  the  ear  of  the  young 
man  of  humble  life  but  noble  heart,  who  professed 
to  have  gone  away  but  who  was  still  opportunely 
hanging  about;  he  rushes  on  the  scene  and  dis- 


68  Out  of  the   Question. 

perses  the  brigands,  from  whom  he  rends  their 
prey.  She  seizes  his  hand  to  thank  him  for  his 
sublime  behavior,  and  discovers  that  his  wrist  has 
been  broken  by  a  blow  from  the  bludgeon  of  one 
of  the  wicked  ruffians.  Very  pretty,  very  charm 
ing,  indeed ;  and  so  appropriate  for  a  girl  of  Les 
lie's  training,  family,  and  station  in  life.  Upon  my 
word  I  congratulate  you,  Marion.  To  think  of 
being  the  mother  of  a  heroine  !  It  was  fortunate 
that  you  let  her  snub  Mr.  Dudley.  If  she  had 
married  him  probably  nothing  of  this  kind  would 
have  happened." 

Mrs.  Bellingham,  uneasily :  "  I  ought  to  be  glad 
the  affair  amuses  you,  but  I  don't  see  how  even  you 
can  hold  the  child  responsible  for  what  has  hap 
pened." 

Mrs.  Murray :  "  Responsible !  I  should  be  the 
last  to  do  that,  I  hope.  No,  indeed.  I  consider 
her  the  victim  of  circumstances,  and  since  the  hero 
has  been  thrown  back  upon  our  hands,  I  'm  sure 
every  one  must  say  that  her  devotion  is  most  ex 
emplary.  I  don't  hold  her  responsible  for  that, 
even."  As  Mrs.  Murray  continues,  Mrs.  Belling- 


A  Slight  Misunderstanding.  69 

ham's  uneasiness  increases,  and  she  drops  her  hands 
with  a  baffled  look  upon  the  work  in  her  lap. 
"  It 's  quite  en  regie  that  she  should  be  anxious 
about  him  ;  it  would  be  altogether  out  of  character, 
otherwise.  It 's  a  pity  that  he  does  n't  lend  himself 
more  gracefully  to  being  petted.  When  I  saw  her 
bringing  him  a  pillow,  that  first  day,  after  the  doc 
tor  set  his  wrist  and  she  had  got  him  to  repose  his 
exhausted  frame  on  the  sofa,  I  was  almost  melted 
to  tears.  Of  course  it  can  end  only  in  one  way." 

Mrs.  Bellingham  :  "  Kate,  I  will  not  have  any 
more  of  this.  It 's  intolerable,  and  you  have  no 
right  to  torment  me  so.  You  know  that  I  'm  as 
much  vexed  as  you  can  be.  It  annoys  me  beyond 
endurance,  but  I  don't  see  what,  as  a  lady,  I  can 
do  about  it.  Mr.  Blake  is  here  again  by  no  fault 
of  his  own,  certainly,  and  neither  Leslie  nor  I  can 
treat  him  with  indifference." 

Mrs.  Murray:  "I  don't  object  to  your  treating 
him  as  kindly  as  you  like,  but  you  had  better  leave 
as  little  kindness  as  possible  to  Leslie.  You  must 
sooner  or  later  recognize  one  thing,  Marion,  and 
take  your  measures  accordingly.  I  advise  you  to 
do  it  sooner." 


70  Out  of  the   Question. 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Mrs.  Murray:  "I  mean  what  you  know  well 
enough:  that  Leslie  is  interested  in  this  Mr.  Blake. 
I  saw  that  she  was,  from  the  very  first  moment. 
He  's  just  the  kind  of  man  to  fascinate  a  girl  like 
Leslie ;  you  know  that.  He  's  handsome,  and  he  's 
shown  himself  brave ;  and  all  that  uuconvention- 
ality  which  marks  him  of  a  different  class  gives 
him  a  charm  to  a  girl's  fancy,  even  when  she  has 
recognized,  herself,  that  he  is  n't  a  gentleman. 
She  soon  forgets  that,  and  sees  merely  that  he  is 
clever  and  good.  She  would  very  promptly  teach 
a  girl  of  his  traditions  her  place,  but  a  young  man 
is  different." 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  I  hope  Leslie  would  treat 
even  a  woman  with  consideration." 

Mrs.  Murray  :  "  Oh,  consideration,  consideration  ! 
You  may  thank  yourself,  Marion,  and  your  impos 
sible  ideas,  if  this  comes  to  the  worst.  You  be 
long  to  one  order  of  things  or  you  belong  to  an 
other.  If  you  believe  that  several  generations  of 
wealth,  breeding,  and  station  distinguish  a  girl  so 
that  a  new  man,  however  good  or  wise  he  is,  can 


A  Slight  Misunderstanding.  71 

never  be  her  equal,  you  must  act  on  your  belief, 
and  in  a  case  like  this  you  can't  act  too  promptly." 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  What  should  you  do  ?  " 

Mrs.  Murray:  "Do?  I  should  fling  away  all 
absurd  ideas  of  consideration,  to  begin  with.  I 
should  deal  frankly  with  Leslie ;  I  should  appeal 
to  her  pride  and  her  common  sense  ;  and  I  should 
speak  so  distinctly  to  this  young  man  that  he 
could  n't  possibly  mistake  my  meaning.  I  should 
tell  him  —  I  should  advise  him  to  try  change  of 
air  for  his  wound  ;  or  whatever  it  is." 

Mrs.  Bellingham,  after  a  moment's  dreary  reflec 
tion  :  "  That 's  quite  impossible,  Kate.  I  will 
speak  to  Leslie,  but  I  can  never  offer  offense  to 
any  one  we  owe  so  much." 

Mrs.  Murray :  "  Do  you  wish  me  to  speak  to 
him  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  No,  I  can't  permit  that, 
either." 

Mrs.  Murray :  "  Very  well ;  then  you  must 
abide  by  the  result."  Mrs.  Murray  clutches  her 
work  together,  stooping  to  recover  dropping  spools 
and  scissors  with  an  activity  surprising  in  a  lady  of 


72  Out  of  the   Question. 

her  massive  person,  and  is  about  to  leave  the  room, 
when  the  sound  of  steps  and  voices  arrest  her ;  a 
moment  after  Miss  Bellingham  and  Blake,  with  his 
right  arm  in  a  sling,  enter  the  room,  so  inteut 
upon  each  other  as  not  to  observe  the  ladies  in  the 
corner. 


n. 

LESLIE   and  BLAKE  ;   MRS.  MURRAY   and    MRS. 
BELLINGHAM  apart. 

Leslie :  "  I  'm  afraid  you  've  let  me  tire  you. 
I  'm  such  an  insatiable  walker,  and  I  never  thought 
of  your  not  being  perfectly  strong,  yet." 

Blake,  laughing :  "  Why,  Miss  Bellingham,  it 
is  n't  one  of  my  ankles  that 's  broken." 

Leslie,  concessively  :  "  No  ;  but  if  you  'd  only 
let  me  do  something  for  you.  I  can  both  play  and 
sing,  and  really  not  at  all  badly.  Shall  I  play  to 
you  ?  "  She  goes  up  and  strikes  some  chords  on 
the  piano,  and  with  her  hand  on  the  keys  glances 
with  mock  gravity  round  at  Blake,  who  remains 
undecided.  She  turns  about.  "Perhaps  you'd 
rather  have  me  read  to  you  ?  " 

Blake :  "  Do  you  really  wish  me  to  choose?" 

Leslie  :  "  I  do.  And  ask  something  difficult  and 
disagreeable." 


74  Out  of  the  Question. 

Make :  "  I  'd  rather  have  you  talk  to  me  than 
either." 

Leslie  :  "  Is  that  your  idea  of  something  difficult 
and  disagreeable  ?  " 

Blake  :  I  hope  you  won't  find  it  so." 

Leslie :  "  But  I  shan't  feel  that  it 's  anything, 
then !  Shall  I  begin  to  talk  to  you  here  ?  Or 
.where  ?  " 

Blake:  "This  is  a  good  place,  but  if  I'm  to 
choose  again,  I  should  say  the  gallery  would  be 
better." 

Leslie :  "  Oh,  you  're  choosing  that  because  I 
said  I  wondered  how  people  could  come  into  the 
country  and  sit  all  their  time  in  stuffy  rooms  ! " 

Blake,  going  to  the  window  and  looking  out : 
"  There  are  no  seats."  He  returns,  and  putting 
the  backs  of  two  chairs  together,  lifts  them  with 
his  left  hand  to  carry  them  to  the  gallery. 

Leslie,  advancing  tragically  upon  him  and  re 
proachfully  possessing  herself  of  the  'chairs  : 
"  Never !  Do  you  think  I  have  no  sense  of 
shame  ? "  She  lifts  a  chair  in  either  hand  and 
carries  them  out,  while  Blake  in  a  charmed  embar- 


A  Slight  Misunderstanding.  75 

rassment  follows  her,  and  they  are  heard  speaking 
without :  "  There !  Or  no  !  That 's  in  a  draught. 
You  mustn't  sit  in  a  draught." 

Blake :  "  It  won't  hurt  me.  I  'm  not  a  young 
lady." 

Leslie :  "  That 's  the  very  reason  it  will  hurt 
you.  If  you  were  a  young  lady  you  could  stand 
anything.  Anything  you  liked."  There  are  in 
distinct  murmurs  of  further  feigned  dispute,  broken 
by  more  or  less  conscious  laughter,  to  which  Mrs. 
Bellingham  listens  with  alarm  and  Mrs.  Murray 
with  the  self-righteousness  of  those  who  have  told 
you  so,  and  who,  having  thus  washed  their  hands  of 
an  affair,  propose  to  give  you  a  shower-bath  of  the 
water. 

Mrs.  Murray  :  "  Well,  Marion  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bellingham^  rising,  with  a  heavy  sigh : 
"  Yes,  it 's  quite  as  bad  as  you  could  wish." 

Mrs.  Murray:  "As  bad  as  /could  wish?  Thi» 
is  too  much,  Marion.  What  are  you  going  tc 
do?"  Mrs.  Bellingham  is  gathering  up  her  wort 
is  if  to  quit  the  room,  and  Mrs.  Murray's  demand 
is  pitched  in  a  tone  of  falling  indignation  and  ris 
ing  amazement. 


76  Out  of  the  Question. 

Mrs.  BelUngham :  "  We  can't  remain  to  over 
hear  their  talk.  I  am  going  to  my  room." 

Mrs.  Murray  :  "  Why,  Marion,  the  child  is  your 
own  daughter ! " 

Mrs.  BelUngham :  "  That  is  the  very  reason  why 
I  don't  wish  to  feel  that  she  has  cause  to  be 
ashamed  of  me  ;  and  I  certainly  should  if  I  stayed 
to  eavesdrop." 

Mrs.  Murray :  "  How  in  the  world  should  she 
ever  know  it  ?  " 

Mrs.  BelUngham:  "I  should  tell  her.  But  that 
is  n't  the  point,  quite." 

Mrs.  Murray  :  "  This  is  fantastic !  Well,  let  her 
marry  her  —  Caliban  !  Why  don't  you  go  out  and 
join  them  ?  That  need  n't  give  her  cause  to  blush 
for  you.  Remember,  Marion;  that  Leslie  is  an 
ignorant,  inexperienced  child,  and  that  it 's  your 
duty  to  save  her  from  her  silliness." 

Mrs.  BelUngham  :  "  My  daughter  is  a  lady,  and 
will  remember  herself." 

Mrs.  Murray :  "  But  she 's  a  woman,  Marion, 
and  will  forget  herself !  " 

Mrs.  Bellingham,  who  hesitates  in   a  brief  per- 


A  Slight  Misunderstanding.  77 

plexity,  but  abruptly  finishes  her  preparations  for 
going  out :  "  At  any  rate,  I  can't  dog  her  steps,  nor 
play  the  spy  upon  her.  I  wish  to  know  only  what 
she  will  freely  tell  me." 

Mrs.  Murray  :  "  And  are  you  actually  going  ? 
Well,  Marion,  I  suppose  I  must  n't  say  what  I 
think  of  you." 

Mrs.  Bellingham  :  "  It  is  n't  necessary  that  you 
should." 

Mrs.  Murray  :  "  If  I  were  to  speak,  I  should  say 
that  your  logic  was  worthy  of  Bedlam,  and  your 
morality  of — of — the  millenium!"  She  whirls 
furiously  out  of  the  parlor,  and  Mrs.  Bellingham, 
with  a  lingering  glance  at  the  door  opening  upon 
the  balcony,  follows  her  amply  eddying  skirts.  A 
moment  after  their  disappearance,  Leslie  comes  to 
the  gallery  door  and  looks  exploringly  into  the 
parlor. 


nr. 

LESLIE  and  BLAKE  ;  jlnally,  MRS.  BELLINGHAM. 

Leslie,  speaking  to  Blake  without :  "  I  was  sure 
I  heard  voices.  But  there 's  nobody."  She  turns, 
and  glancing  at  the  hills  which  show  their  irregular 
mass  through  the  open  window,  sinks  down  into  a 
chair  beside  the  low  gallery  rail.  "  Ah,  this  is  a 
better  point  still,"  and  as  Blake  appears  with  his 
chair  and  plants  it  vis-a-vis  with  her  :  "  Why  old 
Ponkwasset.  I  wonder?  But  people  always  say 
old  of  mountains  :  old  Wachusett,  old  Agamenticus, 
old  Monadnock,  old  Ponkwasset.  Perhaps  the 
young  mountains  have  gone  West  and  settled  down 
on  the  prairies,  with  all  the  other  young  people 
of  the  neighborhood.  Would  n't  that  explain  it  ?  " 
She  looks  with  openly-feigned  seriousness  at  Blake, 
who  supports  in  his  left  hand  the  elbow  of  his  hurt 
arm.  "  I  'm  sure  it 's  paining  you." 


A  Slight  Misunderstanding.  79 

Blake  :  "  No,  no ;  not  the  least  The  fact  is  " 
—  he  laughs  lightly  —  "  I  'm  afraid  I  was  n't  think 
ing  about  the  mountains  just  now,  when  you  spoke." 

Leslie  :  "  Oh,  well,  neither  was  I  —  very  much." 
They  both  laugh.  "  But  why  do  you  put  your 
hand  under  your  arm,  if  it  does  n't  pain  you?  " 

Blake  :  "  Oh  !  —  I  happened  to  think  of  the 
scamp  who  broke  it  for  me." 

Leslie,  shuddering  :  "  Don't  speak  of  it !  Or  yes, 
do  !  Tell  me  about  it ;  I  Ve  wanted  to  ask  you.  I 
ought  to  know  about  it ;  I  hoped  you  would  tell 
without  asking.  I  can  never  be  thankful  enough 
that  your  walk  happened  to  bring  you  back  the 
same  way.  Why  must  you  leave  me  to  imagine 
all  the  rest  ?  " 

Blake :  Oh,  those  things  are  better  imagined  than 
described,  Miss  Bellingham." 

Leslie  :  "  But  I  want  it  described.  I  must  hear 
it,  no  matter  how  terrible  it  is." 

Blake :  "  It  was  n't  terrible ;  there  was  very 
little  of  it,  one  way  or  the  other.  The  big  fellow 
wouldn't  give  up  your  watch;  and  I  had  to  — 
arge  him ;  and  the  little  Irishman  came  dancing 


80  Out  of  the   Question. 

up,  and  made  a  pass  at  us  with  bis  stick,  and  my 
wrist  caught  it.  That 's  all." 

Leslie,  with  effusion  :  "  All  ?  You  risked  your 
life  to  get  me  back  my  watch,  and  I  asked  about 
that  first,  and  never  mentioned  you." 

Blake:  "I  hadn't  done  anything  worth  men 
tioning." 

Leslie :  "  Then  getting  my  watch  was  n't  worth 
mentioning ! " 

Blake :  "  Where  is  it  ?  I  have  n't  seen  you  wear 
it" 

Leslie :  "  I  broke  something  in  it  when  I  threw 
it  down.  It  does  n't  go.  Besides,  I  thought  per 
haps  you  would  n't  like  to  see  it." 

Blake  :  «  Oh,  yes,  I  should." 

Leslie,  starting  up  :   "I  '11  go  get  it." 

Blake  :  "  Not  now  !  "  They  are  both  silent 
Leslie  falters  and  then  sits  down  again,  and  folds 
one  hand  over  the  other  on  the  balcony  rail,  letting 
her  fan  dangle  idly  by  its  chain  from  her  waist. 
He  leans  forward  a  little,  and  taking  the  fan,  opens 
and  shuts  it,  while  she  looks  down  upon  him  with 
tt  slight  smile ;  he  relinquishes  it  with  a  glance  at 
her,  and  leans  back  again  in  his  chair. 


A  Slight  Misunderstanding.  81 

Leslie :  "  Well,  what  were  you  thinking  about 
that  hideous  little  wretch  who  hurt  you  ?" 

Blake :  "  Why,  I  was  thinking,  for  one  thing, 
that  he  did  n't  mean  to  do  it." 

Leslie  :  "  Oh!     Why  did  he  do  it,  then  ?  " 

Blake :  "  I  believe  he  meant  to  hit  his  partner, 
though  I  can  't  exactly  say  why.  It  went  through 
my  mind.  And  I  was  thinking  that  a  good  deal 
might  be  said  for  tramps." 

Leslie :  "  For  tramps  that  steal  watches  and 
break  wrists?  My  philanthropy  doesn't  rise  to 
those  giddy  heights,  quite.  No  decidedly,  Mr. 
Blake,  I  draw  the  line  at  tramps.  They  never 
look  clean,  and  why  don't  they  go  to  work  ?  " 

Blake  :  "  Well  they  could  n't  find  work  just  now, 
if  they  wanted  it,  and  generally  I  suppose  they 
don't  want  it.  A  man  who  's  been  out  of  work 
three  months  is  glad  to  get  it,  but  if  he 's  idle  a 
year  he  does  n't  want  it.  When  I  see  one  of  your 
big  cotton  mills  standing  idle,  I  know  that  it  means 
just  so  much  tramping,  so  much  starving  and  steal 
ing,  so  much  misery  and  murder.  We  're  all  part 


82  Out  of  the   Question. 

of  the  tangle  ;  we  're  all  of  us  to  blame,  we  're  none 
of  us  to  blame." 

Leslie :  "  Oh,  that 's  very  well.  But  if  you  pity 
such  wretches,  what  becomes  of  the  deserving 
poor  ?  " 

Blake :  "  I  'm  not  sure  there  are  any  deserving 
poor,  as  you  call  them,  any  more  than  there  are  de 
serving  rich.  So  I  don't  draw  the  line  at  tramps. 
The  fact  is,  Miss  Bellingham,  I  had  just  been  doing 
those  fellows  a  charity  before  they  attacked  you,  — 
given  them  some  tobacco.  You  don't  approve  of 
that  ?  " 

Leslie  :  "  Oh,  I  like  smoking !  " 

Make,  laughing:  "And  I  got  their  idea  of  a 
gentleman." 

Leslie,  after  a  moment :  "Yes  ?  What  was  that?  " 

Blake:  "A  man  who  gives  you  tobacco,  and 
does  n't  ask  you  why  you  don't  go  to  work.  A 
real  gentleman  has  matches  about  him  to  light  your 
pipe  with  afterwards.  Is  that  your  notion  of  a 
gentleman  ?  " 

Leslie,  consciously  :  "  I  don't  know  ;  not  exactly." 

Blake :  "  It  made  me  think  of  the  notion  of  a 


A  Slight  Misunderstanding.  83 

gentleman  I  once  heard  from  a  very  nice  fellow 
years  ago  :  he  believed  that  you  could  n't  be  a  gen 
tleman  unless  you  began  with  your  grandfather.  I 
was  younger  then,  and  I  remember  shivering  over 
it,  for  it  left  me  quite  out  in  the  cold,  though  I 
could  n't  help  liking  the  man  ;  he  was  a  gentleman 
in  spite  of  what  he  said,  —  a  splendid  fellow,  if 
you  made  allowance  for  him.  You  have  to  make 
allowances  for  everybody,  especially  for  men  who 
have  had  all  the  advantages.  It 's  apt  to  put  them 
wrong  for  life ;  they  get  to  thinking  that  the  start 
is  the  race.  I  used  to  look  down  on  that  sort  of 
men,  once  —  in  theory.  But  what  I  saw  of  them 
in  the  war  taught  me  better;  they  only  wanted  an 
emergency,  and  they  could  show  themselves  as 
good  as  anybody.  It  is  n't  safe  to  judge  people  by 
their  circumstances ;  besides,  I  've  known  too  many 
men  who  had  all  the  ^advantage  and  never  came 
to  anything.  Still  I  prefer  the  tramp's  idea  —  per 
haps  because  it 's  more  flattering  —  that  you  are  a 
gentleman  if  you  choose  to  be  so.  What  do  you 
think  ?  " 
Leslie:  "I  don't  know."  After  an  interval  long 


84  Out  of  the   Question. 

enough  to  vanquish  and  banish  a  disagreeable  con 
sciousness  :  "  I  think  it  '&  a  very  unpleasant  sub 
ject.  Why  don't  you  talk  of  something  else  ?  " 

Blake :  u  Oh,  I  was  n't  to  talk  at  all,  as  I  under 
stood.  I  was  to  be  talked  to." 

Leslie :  "  Well,  what  shall  I  talk  to  you  about  ? 
You  must  choose  that,  too." 

Blake :  "  Let  us  talk  about  yourself,  then.'" 

Leslie :  "  There  is  nothing  about  me.  I  'm  just 
like  every  other  girl.  Get  Miss  Wallace  to  tell 
you  about  herself,  some  day,  and  then  you  '11  know 
my  whole  history.  I  've  done  everything  that 
she  's  done.  We  had  the  same  dancing,  singing, 
piano,  French,  German,  and  Italian  lessons ;  we 
went  to  the  same  schools  and  the  same  lectures; 
we  have  both  been  abroad,  and  can  sketch,  and 
paint  on  tiles.  We  're  as  nearly  alike  as  the  same 
experiences  and  associations  could  make  us,  and 
we  're  just  like  all  the  other  girls  we  know.  Is  n't 
it  rather  monotonous  ?  " 

Blake :  "  I  don't  know  all  the  other  girls  that 
you  know.  If  I  can  judge  from  Miss  Wallace,  I 
don't  believe  you  're  like  them  ;  but  they  may  be 
like  you." 


A  Slight  Misunderstanding.  85 

Leslie,  laughing  :  "  That 's  too  fine  a  distinction 
for  me.  And  you  have  n't  answered  my  question." 

Blake,  gravely :  "  No,  it  is  n't  monotonous  to 
me ;  it 's  all  very  good,  I  think.  I  'm  rather  old- 
fashioned  about  women  ;  I  like  everything  in  their 
lives  to  be  regular  and  ordered  by  old  usage." 

Leslie :  "  Then  you  don't  approve  of  origi 
nality  ?  " 

Blake :  "  I  don't  like  eccentricity." 

Leslie  :  "  Oh,  I  do.  I  should  like  to  do  all  sorts 
of  odd  things,  if  I  dared." 

Blake  :  "  Well,  your  not  daring  is  a  great  point. 
If  I  had  a  sister,  I  should  want  her  to  be  like  all 
the  other  girls  that  are  like  you." 

Leslie :  "  You  compliment !  She  could  n't  be 
like  me." 

Blake:  "Why?" 

Leslie:  "  Why  ?  Oh,  I  don't  know."  She  hes 
itates,  and  then  with  a  quick  glance  at  him :  "  She 
would  have  dark  eyes  and  hair,  for  one  thing." 
They  both  laugh. 

Blake :  "  Was  that  what  you  meant  to  say  ?  " 

Leslie  :  "  Is  n't  it  enough  to  say  what  you  mean, 
without  being  obliged  to  say  what  you  meant  ?  " 


86  Out  of  the   Question. 

Blake :  "  Half  a  loaf  is  better  than  no  bread  ; 
beggars  must  n't  be  choosers." 

Leslie  :  "  Oh,  if  you  put  it  so  meekly  as  fchat  you 
humiliate  me.  I  must  tell  you  now:  I  meant  a 
question." 

Slake :  «  What  is  it  ?  " 

Leslie :  "  But  I  can't  ask  it,  yet  Not  till  I  've 
got  rid  of  some  part  of  my  obligations." 

Blake :  "  I  suppose  you  mean  what  I  —  what 
happened." 

Leslie:  "Yes." 

Blake:  "I'm  sorry  that  it  happened,  then;  and 
I  had  been  feeling  rather  glad  of  it,  on  the  whole. 
I  shall  hate  it  if  it 's  an  annoyance  to  you." 

Leslie:  "Oh,  —  not  annoyance,  exactly." 

Blake :  "  What  then  ?  Should  you  like  a  receipt 
in  full  for  all  gratitude  due  me? " 

Leslie :  "  I  should  like  to  feel  that  we  had  done 
something  for  you  in  return." 

Blake :  "  You  can  cancel  it  all  by  giving  me 
leave  to  enjoy  being  just  what  and  where  I  am." 

Leslie,  demurely,  after  a  little  pause :  "  Is  a 
broken  wrist  such  a  pleasure,  then  ?  " 


A  Slight  Misunderstanding.  87 

Blake:  "I  take  the  broken  wrist  for  what  it 
brings.  If  it  were  uot  for  that  I  should  be  in  New 
York  breaking  my  heart  over  some  people  I'm 
connected  with  in  business  there,  and  wondering 
how  to  push  a  little  invention  of  mine  without  their 
help.  Instead  of  that "  — 

Leslie,  hastily  :  "  Oh  !  Invention  ?  Are  you  an 
inventor,  too,  Mr.  Blake  ?  Do  tell  me  what  it  is." 

Blake :  "  It 's  an  improved  locomotive  driving- 
wheel.  But  you  'd  better  let  me  alone  about  that, 
Miss  Bellingham  ;  I  never  stop  when  I  get  on  my 
driving-wheel.  That 's  what  makes  my  friends 
doubtful  about  it ;  they  don't  see  how  any  brake 
can  check  it.  They  say  the  Westinghouse  air 
brake  would  exhaust  the  atmosphere  of  the  planet 
on  it  without  the  slightest  effect.  You  see  I  am 
rather  sanguine  about  it."  He  laughs  nervously. 

Leslie :  "  But  what  have  those  New  York  people 
to  do  with  it?" 

Blake  :  "  Nothing,  at  present.  That 's  the  worst 
of  it.  They  were  partners  of  mine,  and  they  got 
me  to  come  on  all  the  way  from  Omaha,  and  then 
I  found  out  that  they  had  no  means  to  get  the 
ihing  going." 


88  Out  of  the   Question. 

Leslie :  "  Oh !     How  could  they  do  it  ?  " 

Blake :  "  Well,  I  used  language  to  that  effect 
myself,  but  they  did  n't  seem  to  know  ;  and  I  ran 
up  here  to  cool  off  and  think  the  matter  over  for  a 
fresh  start.  You  see,  if  I  succeed  it  will  be  an 
everlasting  fortune  to  me ;  and  if  I  fail,  —  well,  it 
will  be  an  everlasting  wiz'sfortune.  But  I  'm  not 
going  to  fail.  There  ;  I  'm  started  !  If  I  went  on 
a  moment  longer,  no  power  on  earth  could  stop  me. 
I  suppose  your  're  not  much  used  to  talking  about 
driving-wheels,  Miss  Bellingham  ?  " 

Leslie :  "  We  don't  often  speak  of  them.  But 
they  must  be  very  interesting  to  those  that  under 
stand  them." 

Blake :  "  I  can't  honestly  say  they  are.  They  're 
like  railroads ;  they  're  good  to  get  you  there." 

Leslie:  "Where?" 

Blake :  "  Well,  in  my  case,  away  from  a  good 
deal  of  drudgery  I  don't  like,  and  a  life  I  don't  al 
together  fancy,  and  a  kind  of  world  I  know  too 
well.  I  should  go  to  Europe,  I  suppose,  if  the 
wheel  succeeded.  I  've  a  curiosity  to  see  what  the 
apple  is  like  on  the  other  side  ;  whether  it 's  riper 


A  Slight  Misunderstanding.  89 

or  only  rottener.  And  I  always  believed  I  should 
quiet  down  somewhere,  and  read  all  the  books  I 
wanted  to,  and  make  up  for  lost  time  in  several 
ways.  I  don't  think  I  should  look  at  any  sort  of 
machine  for  a  year." 

Leslie,  earnestly :  "  And  would  all  that  happen 
if  you  had  the  money  to  get  the  driving-wheel 
going?" 

Blake,  with  a  smile  at  her  earnestness  :  "  I  'm  not 
such  a  driving-wheel  fanatic  as  that.  The  thing 
has  to  be  fully  tested,  and  even  after  it's  tested, 
the  roads  may  refuse  to  take  hold  of  it." 

Leslie,  confidently:  "They  can't  —  when  they 
see  that  it 's  better." 

Blake :  " I  wish  I  could, think  so.  But  roads  are 
human,  Miss  Bellingham.  They  prefer  a  thing 
that's  just  as  well  to  something  that's  much  bet 
ter  —  if  it  costs  much  to  change." 

Leslie:  "Well,  then,  if  you  don't  believe  the 
roads  will  take  hold  of  it,  why  do  you  want  to 
test  it?  Why  don't  you  give  it  up  at  once?" 

Blake :  "  It  won't  give  me  up.  I  do  believe  in 
\t,  you  know,  and  I  can't  stop  where  I  am  with  it. 
I  must  go  on." 


90  Out  of  the   Question. 

Leslie :  "  Yes.  I  should  do  just  the  same.  I 
should  never,  never  give  it  up.  I  know  you  '11  be 
helped.  Mr.  Blake,  if  this  wheel "  — 

Blake :  "  Really,  Miss  Bellingham,  I  feel 
ashamed  for  letting  you  bother  yourself  so  long 
with  that  ridiculous  wheel.  But  you  would  n't 
stick  to  the  subject :  we  were  talking  about  you." 

Leslie,  dreamily :  "  About  me  ? "  Then  ab 
ruptly  :  "  Mamma  will  wonder  what  in  the  world 
has  become  of  me."  She  rises,  and  Blake,  with  an 
air  of  slight  surprise,  follows  her  example.  She 
leads  the  way  into  the  parlor,  and  lingeringly  draw 
ing  near  the  piano,  she  strikes  some  chords,  and 
as  she  stands  over  the  instrument,  she  carelessly 
plays  an  air  with  one  hand.  Then,  without  look 
ing  up  :  "  "Was  that  the  air  you  were  trying  to  re 
member  ?  " 

Make,  joyfully  :  "  Oh  yes,  that 's  it ;  that 's  it,  at 
last!" 

Leslie,  seating  herself  at  the  piano  and  running 
over  the  keys  again :  "  I  think  I  can  play  it  for 
you  ;  it 's  rather  old-fashioned,  now."  She  plays 
and  sings,  and  then  rests  with  her  hands  on  the 


A  Slight  Misunderstanding.  91 

keys,  looking  up  at  Blake  where  he  stands  leaning 
one  elbow  on  the  corner  of  the  piano. 

Blake :  "  I  'm  very  much  obliged." 

Leslie,  laughing :  "  And  I  'm  very  much  sur 
prised." 

Blake:  "Why?" 

Leslie  :  "  I  should  think  the  inventor  of  a  driv 
ing-wheel  would  want  something  a  great  deal  more 
stirring  than  this  German  sentimentality  and  those 
languid,  melancholy  things  from  Tennyson  that 
you  liked." 

Blake :  "  Ah,  that 's  just  what  I  don't  want. 
I've  got  stir  enough  of  my  own." 

Leslie :  "  I  wish  I  could  understand  you." 

Blake:  "Am  I  such  a  puzzle?  I  always 
thought  myself  a  very  simple  affair." 

Leslie :  "  That 's  the  difficulty.     I  wish  "  — 

Blake:  "What?" 

Leslie :  "  That  I  could  say  something  wrong  in 
just  the  right  way  !  " 

Blake,  laughing :  "  How  do  you  know  it 's 
wrong  ? " 

Leslie:  "It  isn't,  if  you  don't  think  so." 


92  Out  of  the   Question. 

Blake :  "  I  don't,  so  far." 

Leslie :  "  Ah,  don't  joke.  It 's  a  very  serious 
matter." 

Blake  :  "  Why  should  I  think  it  was  wrong  ?  " 

Leslie:  "I  don't  know  that  you  will.  Mr. 
Blake  "  — 

Blake-.  "Well?" 

Leslie :  "  Did  you  know  —  If  I  begin  to  say 
something,  and  feel  like  stopping  before  I  've  said 
it,  you  won't  ask  questions  to  make  me  go  on  ?  " 
Very  seriously. 

Make,  with  a  smile  of  joyous  amusement,  look 
ing  down  at  her  as  he  lounges  at  the  corner  of  the 
piano :  "  I  won't  even  ask  you  to  begin."  Leslie 
passes  her  hand  over  the  edges  of  the  keys,  with 
out  making  them  sound ;  then  she  drops  it  into  her 
lap  and  there  clasps  it  with  the  other  hand,  and 
looks  up  at  Blake. 

Leslie :  "  Did  you  know  I  was  rich,  Mr. 
Blake?" 

Blake:  « No,  Miss  Bellingham,  I  didn't."  His 
smile  changes  from  amusement  to  surprise,  and  he 
colors  faintly. 


A  Slight  Misunderstanding.  93 

Leslie,  blushing  violently  :  "  "Well,  I  am,  —  if 
being  rich  is  having  a  great  deal  more  money  to  do 
what  you  please  than  you  know  what  to  do  with." 
Blake  listens  with  a  look  of  deepening  mystifica 
tion  ;  she  hurries  desperately  on  :  "I  have  this 
money  in  my  own  right ;  it 's  what  my  uncle  left 
me,  and  I  can  give  it  all  away  if  I  choose."  She 
pauses  again,  as  if  waiting  for  Blake  to  ask  her  to 
go  on,  but  he  remains  loyally  silent ;  his  smile  has 
died  away,  and  an  embarrassment  increases  upon 
both  of  them.  She  looks  up  at  him  again,  and  im 
plores  :  "  "What  will  you  think  of  what  I  'm  going 
to  say  ?  " 

SlaJce,  breaking  into  a  troubled  laugh :  "  I  can't 
imagine  what  you  're  going  to  say." 

Leslie :  "  Don't  laugh  !  I  know  you  won't  — 
0  Mr.  Blake,  you  said  you  liked  girls  to  be  just 
like  everybody  else,  and  old-established,  and  that ; 
and  I  know  this  is  as  eccentric  as  it  can  be.  It 
is  n't  at  all  the  thing,  I  know,  for  a  young  lady  to 
say  to  a  gentleman ;  but  you  're  not  like  the  others, 
and  —  Oh,  it  does  n't  seem  possible  that  I  should 
have  begun  it !  It  seems  perfectly  monstrous ! 


94  Out  of  the   Question. 

But  I  know  you  won't  misinterpret ;  I  must,  I 
must  go  on,  and  the  bluntest  and  straightforward- 
est  way  will  be  the  best  way."  She  keeps  wist 
fully  scanning  Blake's  face  as  she  speaks,  but  ap 
parently  gathers  no  courage  or  comfort  from  it. 
«  Mr.  Blake  !  " 

Blake,  passively :  "  Well  ?  " 

Leslie,  with  desperate  vehemence  :  "  I  want  — 
Oh,  what  will  you  think  of  me !  But  no,  you  're 
too  good  yourself  not  to  see  it  in  just  the  right 
way.  I  'm  sure  that  you  won't  think  it  —  unlady 
like  —  for  me  to  propose  such  a  thing,  merely  be 
cause  —  because  most  people  would  n't  do  it ;  but 
I  shall  respect  your  reasons  — I  shall  know  you're 
right  —  even  if  you  refuse  me ;  and  —  0  Mr. 
Blake,  I  want  to  go  into  partnership  with  you  !  " 

Blake,  recoiling  a  pace  or  two  from  the  corner  of 
the  piano,  as  Leslie  rises  from  the  stool  and  stands 
confronting  him  ;  "  To  —  to  —  go  into  "  — 

Leslie  :  "  Yes,  yes  !  But  how  dreadfully  you 
take  it ;  and  you  promised  —  Oh,  I  knew  you 
would  n't  like  it !  I  know  it  seems  dreadfully 
queer,  and  not  at  all  delicate.  But  I  thought  —  I 


A  Slight  Misunderstanding.  95 

thought  —  from  what  you  said  —  You  said  those 
people  had  no  money  to  push  your  invention,  and 
here  I  have  all  this  money  doing  nobody  any  good 
—  and  you  've  done  nothing  but  heap  one  kindness 
after  another  on  us  —  and  why  shouldn't  you  take 
it,  as  much  as  you  want,  and  use  it  to  perfect  your 
driving-wheel  ?  I  'm  sure  I  believe  in  it ;  and  "  — 
She  has  followed  him  the  pace  or  two  of  his  with 
drawal  ;  but  now,  at  some  changing  expression  of 
his  face,  she  hesitates,  falters,  and  remains  silent 
and  motionless,  as  if  fixed  and  stricken  mute 
by  the  sight  of  some  hideous  apparition.  Then 
with  a  wild  incredulity:  "Oh!"  and  indignation, 
"Oh!"  and  passionate  reproach  and  disappoint 
ment,  "  Oh !  How  cruel,  how  shameless,  how  hor 
rid  ! "  She  drops  her  face  into  her  hands,  and 
sinks  upon  the  piano-stool,  throwing  her  burdened 
arms  upon  the  keys  with  a  melodious  crash. 

Blake  :  "  Don't,  don't !  For  pity's  sake,  don't, 
my  —  Miss  Bellingham !  "  He  stands  over  her  in 
helpless  misery  and  abject  self-reproach.  "  Good 
heavens,  I  did  n't  —  It  was  all  "  — 

Leslie,  springing   erect :    "  Don't   speak    to   me. 


96  Out  of  the   Question. 

Your  presence,  your  being  alive  in  the  same  world 
after  that  is  an  insufferable  insult !  For  you  to 
dare !  Ah !  No  woman  could  say  what  you 
thought.  No  lady  "  — 

Blake  :  "  Wait !  "  He  turns  pale,  and  speaks 
low  and  steadily :  "  You  must  listen  to  me  now  ; 
you  must  hear  what  I  never  dreamt  I  should  dare 
to  say.  I  loved  you !  If  that  had  not  bewildered 
me  I  could  not  have  thought  —  what  was  impossi 
ble.  It  was  a  delusion  dearer  than  life  ;  but  I  was 
ashamed  of  the  hope  it  gave  me  even  while  it 
lasted.  Don't  mistake  me,  Miss  Bellingham ;  I 
could  have  died  to  win  your  love,  but  if  your  words 
had  said  what  they  seemed  to  say,  I  would  not 
have  taken  what  they  seemed  to  offer.  But  that 's 
past.  And  now  that  I  have  to  answer  your  mean 
ing,  I  must  do  it  without  thanks.  You  place  me 
in  the  position  of  having  told  my  story  to  hint  for 
your  help  "  — 

Leslie,  in  vehement  protest :  "  Oh,  no,  no,  no ! 
I  never  dreamt  of  such  a  thing !  I  could  n't ! " 

Blake :  "  Thank  you  at  least  for  that ;  and  — 
Good-by  ! "  He  bows  and  moves  away  toward  the 
door. 


A  Slight  Mi  sunder  standing.  97 

Leslie,  wildly  :  "  Oh,  don't  go,  don't  go  !  What 
have  I  done,  what  shall  I  do  ?" 

Blake,  pausing,  and  then  going  abruptly  back  to 
her :  "  You  can  forgive  me,  Miss  Bellingham  ;  and 
let  everything  be  as  it  was." 

Leslie,  after  a  moment  of  silent  anguish :  "  No, 
no.  That 's  impossible.  It  can  never  be  the  same 
again.  It  must  all  end.  I  can  forgive  you  easily 
enough  ;  it  was  nothing  ;  the  wrong  was  all  mine. 
I  've  been  cruelly  to  blame,  letting  you  —  go  on. 
Oh,  yes,  very,  very  much.  But  I  did  n't  know  it ; 
and  I  did  n't  mean  anything  by  anything.  No,  I 
could  n't.  Good-by.  You  are  right  to  go.  You 
mustn't  see  me  any  more.  I  shall  never  forget 
your  goodness  and  patience."  Eagerly :  "  You 
would  n't  want  me  to  forget  it,  would  you  ?  " 

Blake,  brokenly :  "  Whatever  you  do  will  be 
right.  God  bless  you,  and  good-by."  He  takes 
up  her  right  hand  in  his  left,  and  raises  it  to  his 
lips,  she  trembling,  and  as  he  stands  holding  it 
Mrs.  Bellingham  enters  with  an  open  letter. 

Mrs.  Bellingham:  "Leslie"  — 

Leslie,  who  withdraws  her  hand,  and  after  a  mo- 
7 


98  Out  of  the   Question. 

mentary  suspense  turns  unashamed  to  her  mother : 
"  Mr.  Blake  is  going  away,  mamma "  —  Mrs. 
Bellingham  faintly  acknowledges  his  parting  bow. 
Leslie  watches  him  go,  and  then  turns  away  with 
a  suppressed  sob. 


IV. 

MRS.  MURRAY'S  TRIUMPH. 


I. 

MRS.  BELLINGHAM  and  LESLIE. 

Leslie  :  "  Well,  mamma,  what  will  you  say  to  me 
now  ?  "  Without  'the  inspiration  of  Blake's  pres 
ence,  she  stands  drearily  confronting  her  mother  in 
Mrs.  Bellingham's  own  room,  where  the  latter, 
seated  in  her  easy-chair,  looks  up  into  Leslie's  face. 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  Nothing,  Leslie.  I  am  wait 
ing  for  you  to  speak." 

Leslie  :  "  Oh,  I  can't  speak  unless  you  ask  me." 
She  drops  into  a  chair,  and  hiding  her  face  in  her 
handkerchief  weeps  silently.  Her  mother  waits 
till  her  passion  is  spent  and  she  has  wiped  her 
tears,  and  sits  mutely  staring  toward  the  window. 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  Is  he  coming  back  again, 
Leslie?" 

Leslie:  "No." 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  Was  it  necessary  that  you 
should  let  him  take  leave  of  you  in  that  way  ? " 


102  Out  of  the   Question. 

Leslie,  sighing :  "  No,  it  was  n't  necessary.  But 
—  it  was  inevitable." 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  What  had  made  it  inev 
itable  ?  Eemember,  Leslie,  that  you  asked  me 
to  question  you." 

Leslie :  "  I  know  it,  mamma." 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  And  you  need  n't  answer  if 
you  don't  like." 

Leslie:  "  I  don't  like,  but  I  will  answer,  all  the 
same,  for  you  have  a  right  to  know.  I  had  been 
saying  something  silly  to  him." 

Mrs.  Bellingham,  with  patient  hopelessness  : 
"  Yes  ?  " 

Leslie :  "  It  seems  so,  now ;  but  I  know  that  I 
spoke  from  a  right  motive,  —  a  motive  that  you 
would  n't  disapprove  of  yourself,  mamma." 

Mrs.  Bellingham  :  "  I  'm  sure  of  that,  my  dear." 

Leslie :  "  Well,  you  see  —  Could  n't  you  go  on 
and  ask  me,  mamma  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  I  don't  know  what  to  ask, 
Leslie." 

Leslie:  "It's  so  hard  to  tell,  without !"  Des 
perately  :  "  Why,  you  see,  mamma,  Mr.  Blake  had 


Mrs.  Murray's  Triumph.  103 

told  me  about  a  thing  he  had  been  inventing,  and 
how  some  people  in  New  York  had  promised  him 
money  to  get  it  along,  —  push  it,  he  said,  —  and 
when  he  came  on  all  the  way  from  Omaha,  he 
found  that  they  had  no  money;  and  so — and  so  — 
I  —  I  offered  him  some." 

Mrs.  BeUingJiam :  "  Oh,  Leslie ! " 

Leslie :  "  Yes,  yes,  it  seems  horrid,  now,  —  per 
fectly  hideous.  But  I  did  so  long  to  do  something 
for  him  because  he  had  done  so  much  for  us,  and  I 
think  he  is  so  modest  and  noble,  and  I  felt  so  sorry 
that  he  should  have  been  so  cruelly  deceived. 
"Was  n't  that  a  good  motive,  mamma  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bellingham  :  "  Oh,  yes,  my  poor  headlong 
child  !  But  what  a  thing  for  a  young  lady  to  pro 
pose  !  I  can't  imagine  how  you  could  approach  the 
matter." 

Leslie :  "  That 's  the  worst  of  it,  —  the  very 
worst.  Of  course,  I  never  could  have  approached 
such  a  thing  with  any  other  young  man;  but  I 
thought  there  was  such  a  difference  between  us, 
don't  you  know,  in  everything,  that  it  would  be 
safe ;  and  I  thought  it  would  be  better  —  he  would 


104  Out  of  the   Question. 

like  it  better  —  if  there  was  no  beating  about  the 
bush  ;  and  so  I  said  —  I  said  —  that  I  wanted  to  go 
into  partnership  with  him." 

Mrs.  Bellingham,  with  great  trouble  in  her  voice, 
but  steadily :  "  What  answer  did  he  make  you, 
Leslie?" 

Leslie :  "  Oh,  I  was  justly  punished  for  looking 
down  upon  him.  At  first  he  blushed  in  a  strange 
sort  of  way,  and  then  he  turned  pale  and  looked 
grieved  and  angry,  and  at  last  repeated  my  words 
in  a  kind  of  daze,  and  I  blundered  on,  and  all  at 
once  —  I  saw  what  he  thought  I  had  meant ;  he 
thought  —  Oh  dear,  dear,  —  he  thought  "  —  she 
hides  her  face  again,  and  sobs  out  the  words  be 
hind  her  handkerchief —  "  that  I  w-w-auted  to  — 
to  —  to  marry  him !  Oh,  how  shall  I  ever  en 
dure  it  ?  It  was  a  thousand  times  worse  than  the 
tramps,  —  a  thousand  times."  Mrs.  Bellingham 
remains  silently  regarding  her  daughter,  who  con 
tinues  to  bemoan  herself,  and  then  lifts  her  tear- 
stained  face  :  "  Don't  you  think  it  was  ungrate 
fully,  horridly,  cruelly  vulgar  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  Mr.  Blake  can't  have   the 


Mrs.  Murray's  Triumph.  105 

refinement  of  feeling  that  you  Ve  been  used  to  in 
the  gentlemen  of  your  acquaintance  ;  I  'm  glad  that 
you  've  found  that  out  for  yourself,  though  you  've 
had  to  reach  it  through  such  a  bitter  mortifica 
tion.  If  such  a  man  misunderstood  you"  — 

Leslie,  indignantly :  "  Mr.  Blake  is  quite  as  good 
as  the  gentlemen  of  my  acquaintance,  mamma  ;  he 
could  n't  help  thinking  what  he  did,  I  blundered 
so,  and  when  I  flew  out  at  him,  and  upbraided 
him  for  his  —  ungenerosity,  and  hurt  his  feelings 
all  I  could,  he  excused  himself  in  a  perfectly  satis 
factory  way.  He  said  "  — 

Mrs.  Bellinyham  :  «  What,  Leslie  ?  " 
Leslie,  with  a  drooping  head  :  "  He  said  —  he 
used  words  more  refined  and  considerate  than  I 
ever  dreamt  of —  he  said  he  was  always  thinking 
of  me  in  that  way  without  knowing  it,  and  hoping 
against  hope,  or  he  could  never  have  misunderstood 
me  in  the  world.  And  then  he  let  me  know  that 
he  would  n't  have  taken  me,  no  matter  how  much 
he  liked  me,  if  what  he  thought  for  only  an  instant 
had  been  true ;  and  he  could  never  have  taken  my 
money,  for  that  would  have  made  him  seem  like 


106  Out  of  the   Question. 

begging,  by  what  he  had  told  me.  And  he  talked 
splendidly,  mamma,  and  he  put  me  down,  as  I  de 
served,  and  he  was  going  away,  and  I  called  him 
back,  and  we  agreed  that  we  must  never  see  each 
other  again ;  and  —  and  I  could  n't  help  his  kiss 
ing  my  hand."  She  puts  up  her  handkerchief  and 
sobs,  and  there  is  an  interval  before  her  mother 
speaks  in  a  tone  of  compassion,  yet  of  relief. 

Mrs.  Bellingham  :  "  Well,  Leslie,  I  'm  glad  that 
you  could  agree  upon  so  wise  a  course.  This  has 
all  been  a  terribly  perplexing  and  painful  affair  ; 
and  I  have  had  my  fears,  my  dear,  that  perhaps  it 
had  gone  so  far  with  you  that "  — 

Leslie,  vehemently  :  "  Why,  so  it  had !  I  did  n't 
know  I  liked  him  so,  but  I  do  ;  and  I  give  him  up 
—  I  gave  him  up  —  because  you  all  hate  him,  yes, 
all ;  and  you  shut  your  eyes,  and  won't  see  how 
kind  and  brave  and  good  he  is ;  and  I  can't  hold 
out  against  you.  Yes,  he  must  go ;  but  he  takes 
my  broken  heart  with  him." 

Mrs.  BeUingham,  sternly:  "Leslie,  this  is  ab 
surd.  You  know  yourself  that  he 's  out  of  the 
question." 


Mrs.  Murray's   Triumph.  107 

Leslie,  flinging  herself  down  and  laying  her  head 
in  her  mother's  lap  with  a  desolate  cry :  "  0 
mamma,  mamma,  don't  speak  so  harshly  to  me,  or 
I  shall  die.  I  know  he 's  out  of  the  question  ;  yes, 
yes,  I  do.  But  how?  How,  mamma?  How  is  he 
out  of  the  question  ?  That 's  what  I  can't  under 
stand  ! "  % 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  Why,  to  begin  with,  we 
know  nothing  about  him,  Leslie." 

Leslie,  eagerly  :  "  Oh  yes,  I  do.  He  's  told  me 
all  about  himself.  He 's  an  inventor.  He 's  a 
genius.  Yes,  he  knows  everything,  indeed  he 
does  ;  and  in  the  war  he  was  an  engineer.  If  you 
could  only  hear  him  talk  as  I  do  "  — 

Mrs.  Bettingham :  "  I  dare  say.  But  even  a  civil 
engineer  "  — 

Leslie :  "  A  civil  engineer  !  I  should  hope  not. 
I  should  be  ashamed  of  a  man  who  had  been  a 
civilian  during  the  war.  He  always  had  this  great 
taste  for  mechanics,  and  he  studied  the  business  of 
a  machinist  —  I  don't  know  what  it  is,  exactly; 
but  he  knows  all  about  steam,  and  he  can  build  a 
whole  engine,  himself;  and  he  happened  to  be 


108  Out  of  the  Question. 

a  private  soldier  going  somewhere  on  a  Missis 
sippi  gunboat  when  the  engineer  was  killed,  and 
he  took  charge  of  the  engine  at  once,  and  was  in 
the  great  battles  with  the  boat  afterwards.  He  'a 
a  military  engineer." 

Mrs.  Bcllingham :  "  He  's  a  steamboat  engineer, 
Leslie." 

Leslie :  "  He  was  an  officer  of  the  boat  —  an 
officer  "  — 

Mrs.  Bellingham,  with  a  groan :  "  Oh,  he  was  n't 
an  officer  of  the  sort  you  think ;  he  had  no  mili 
tary  rank ;  he  had  the  place  of  a  clever  artisan." 

Leslie  :  "  I  don't  understand." 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  He  looked  after  the  machin 
ery,  and  saw  that  the  boiler  did  n't  burst,  —  I 
don't  know  what.  But  you  might  as  well  marry 
a  locomotive-driver,  as  far  as  profession  goes." 

Leslie,  aghast :  "  Do  you  mean  that  when  Mr. 
Blake  was  an  engineer,  he  did  n't  wear  any  coat, 
and  had  his  sleeves  rolled  up,  and  went  about  with 
a  stringy  wad  of  oily  cotton  in  his  hand  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bellingham  :  "  Yes." 

Leslie :  "  Oh  ! "  She  excludes  the  horrible  vision 
by  clasping  both  hands  over  her  eyes. 


Mrs.  Murray's  Triumph.  109 

Mrs.  Bellingham,  very  gravely  :  "  Now  listen  to 
me,  Leslie.  You  kuow  that  I  am  not  like  your 
aunt  Kate,  —  that  I  never  talk  in  that  vulgar  way 
about  classes  and  stations,  don't  you?" 

Leslie,  still  in  a  helpless  daze :  "  Oh,  yes, 
mamma.  I  've  always  been  a  great  deal  worse 

than  you,  myself." 

% 
Mrs.  Bellingham:  "Well,  my  dear,  then  I  hope 

that  you  will  acquit  me  of  anything  low  or  snob 
bish  in  what  I  have  to  say.  There  is  a  fitness  in 
all  things,  and  1  speak  out  of  respect  to  that.  It  is 
simply  impossible  that  a  girl  of  your  breeding  and 
ideas  and  associations  should  marry  a  man  of  his. 
Recollect  that  no  one  belongs  entirely  to  them 
selves.  You  are  part  of  the  circle  in  which  you 
have  always  moved,  and  he  is  part  of  the  circum 
stances  of  his  life.  Do  you  see?" 

Leslie :  "  Yes."  She  lapses  from  a  kneeling  to 
a  crouching  posture,  and  resting  one  elbow  on  her 
mother's  knee  poises  her  chin  on  her  hand,  and 
listens  drearily. 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  We  may  say  that  it  is  no 
matter  what  a  man  has  been ;  that  we  are  only 


110  Out  of  the   Question. 

concerned  with  what  Mr.  Blake  is  now.  But 
the  trouble  is  that  every  one  of  us  is  what  they 
have  been.  If  Mr.  Blake's  early  associations  have 
been  rude  and  his  business  coarse,  you  may  be 
sure  they  have  left  their  mark  upon  him,  no  mat 
ter  how  good  he  may  be  naturally.  I  think  he  is 
of  a  very  high  and  sweet  nature;  he  seems  so"  — 

Leslie :  "  Oh,  he  is,  he  is  ! " 

Mrs.  BeUingham  :  "  But  he  can't  outlive  his  own 
life.  Is  n't  that  reasonable  ?  " 

Leslie,  hopelessly :  "  Yes,  it  seems  so." 

Mrs.  BeUingham  :  "  You  can't  safely  marry  any 
man  whose  history  you  despise.  Marriage  is  a  ter 
rible  thing,  my  dear ;  young  girls  can  never  under 
stand  how  it  searches  out  the  heart  and  tries  and 
tests  in  every  way.  You  must  n't  have  a  husband 
whom  you  can  imagine  with  a  wad  of  greasy  cot 
ton  in  his  hand.  There  will  be  wicked  moments 
in  which  you  will  taunt  and  torment  each  other." 

Leslie :  "  0  mamma,  mamma ! " 

Mrs.  BeUingham  :  "  Yes,  it  is  so !  The  truest 
love  can  come  to  that.  And  in  those  moments  it 
is  better  that  all  your  past  and  present  should  be 


Mrs.  Murray's   Triumph.  Ill 

of  the  same  level  as  his  ;  for  you  would  n't  hesitate 
to  throw  any  scorn  in  his  teeth ;  you  would  be  mad, 
and  you  must  not  have  deadly  weapons  within 
reach.  I  speak  very  plainly." 

Leslie :  "  Terribly  !  " 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  But  that  is  the  worst.  There 
are  a  thousand  lighter  trials,  which  you  must  meet 
Where  would  you  live,  if  you  married  him  ?  You 
have  a  fortune,  and  you  might  go  to  Europe  "  — 

Leslie :  "  I  never  would  sneak  away  to  Europe 
with  him ! " 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  I  should  hope  not.  But  if 
you  remained  at  home,  how  would  you  introduce 
him  to  your  friends?  Invention  is  n't  a  profession ; 
would  you  tell  them  that  he  was  a  machinist  or  a 
steamboat  engineer  by  trade  ?  And  if  they  found 
it  out  without  your  telling  ?  " 

Leslie,  evasively :  "  There  are  plenty  of  girls 
who  marry  men  of  genius,  and  it  does  n't  matter 
what  the  men  have  done,  —  how  humble  they  have 
been.  If  they  're  geniuses  " — 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  0  Leslie,  such  men  have 
won  all  the  honors  and  distinctions  before  they 


112  Out  of  the   Question. 

marry.  Girls  like  you,  my  dear,  don't  marry  gen 
iuses  in  their  poverty  and  obscurity.  Those  men 
spend  years  and  years  of  toil  and  study,  and  strug 
gle  through  a  thousand  difficulties  and  privations, 
and  set  the  world  talking  about  them,  before  they 
can  even  be  asked  to  meet  the  ordinary  people  of 
our  set  in  society.  "Wait  till  Mr.  Blake  has 
shown  "  — 

Leslie  :  "  But  he  'd  be  an  old  man  by  that  time, 
and  then  I  should  n't  want  him.  If  I  know  now 
that  he  's  going  to  be  great "  — 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  My  dear,  you  know  nothing 
whatever  about  him,  except  that  his  past  life  has 
been  shabby  and  common." 

Leslie,  with  sudden  spirit :  "  Well,  then,  mamma, 
at  least  I  don't  know  anything  horrid  of  him,  as 
some  girls  must  know  of  the  young  men  they 
marry,  —  and  the  old  men,  too.  Just  think  of  Vi 
olet  Emmons's  match  with  that  count,  there  in 
Paris  !  And  Aggy  Lawson's,  with  that  dreadful 
old  Mr.  Lancaster,  that  everybody  says  has  been 
BO  wicked  !  I  'd  rather  marry  Mr.  Blake,  a  thou 
sand  times,  if  he  had  been  a  —  I  don't  know 
what ! " 


Mrs.  Murray's  Triumph.  113 

Mrs.  Bellingham:  "You  have  no  right  to  take 
things  at  their  worst,  Leslie.  Remember  all  the 

O  * 

girls  you  know,  and  the  accomplished  men  they 
have  married  in  their  own  set ;  men  who  are  quite 
their  equals  in  goodness  as  well  as  station  and 
wealth  and  breeding.  That 's  what  I  want  you  to 
do." 

Leslie :  "  Do  you  wish  me  to  marry  somebody 
I  don't  like?" 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  Be  fair,  Leslie.  I  merely 
wish  you  to  like  somebody  you  ought  to  marry,  — 
when  the  proper  time  comes.  How  do  you  know 
that  Mr.  Blake  is  n't  quite  as  bad  as  the  count  or 
Mr.  Lancaster  ?  " 

Leslie,  with  a  burst  of  tears :  "  Oh,  mamma,  you 
just  now  said  yourself  that  you  believed  he  was 
good  and  sweet,  and  you  have  seen  the  beautiful 
delicacy  he  behaves  towards  women  with.  Well, 
well,"  —  she  rises,  and  catches  in  her  hand  a  long 
coil  of  her  hair  which  has  come  loose  from  the 
mass,  and  stands  holding  it  while  she  turns  tragi 
cally  toward  her  mother,  —  "  let  it  all  go.  I  will 
never  marry  at  all,  and  then  at  least  I  can't  dis- 
8 


114  Out  of  the   Question. 

please  you.  I  give  him  up,  and  I  hope  it  will 
make  you  happy,  mamma." 

Mrs.  Bellingham,  rising :  "  Leslie,  is  this  the 
way  you  reward  my  anxiety  and  patience  ?  I 
have  reasoned  with  you  as  a  woman  of  sense,  and 
the  return  you  make  is  to  behave  as  a  petulant 
child.  I  will  never  try  to  control  you  in  such  a 
matter  as  this,  but  you  know  now  what  I  think, 
and  you  can  have  your  own  way  if  you  like  it 
better  or  believe  it  is  wiser  than  mine.  Oh,  my 
poor  child ! "  —  clasping  Leslie's  head  between  her 
hands  and  tenderly  kissing  the  girl's  hair, — "don't 
you  suppose  your  mother's  heart  aches  for  you? 
Marry  him  if  you  will,  Leslie,  and  I  shall  always 
love  you.  I  hope  I  may  never  have  to  pity  you 
more  than  I  do  now.  All  that  I  ask  of  you,  after 
all,  is  to  make  sure  of  yourself." 

Leslie  :  "  I  willj  mamma,  I  will.  He  must  go  ; 
oh,  yes,  he  must  go !  I  see  that  it  would  n't  do. 
It  would  be  too  unequal,  —  I  'm  so  far  beneath  him 
in  everything  but  the  things  I  ought  to  despise. 
No,  I  'm  not  his  equal,  and  I  never  can  be,  and  so 
I  must  not  think  of  him  any  more.  If  he  were 


Mrs.  Murray's  Triumph.  115 

rich,  and  had  been  brought  up  like  me,  and  I  were 
some  poor  girl  with  nothing  but  her  love  for  him, 
he  would  never  let  the  world  outweigh  her  love,  as 
I  do  his.  Don't  praise  me,  mother ;  don't  thank 
me.  It  is  n't  for  you  I  do  it ;  it  is  n't  for  anything 
worthy,  or  true,  or  good ;  it  *s  because  I  'm  a  cow 
ard,  and  afraid  of  the  opinions  of  people  I  despise. 

% 

You  've  shown  me  what  I  am.  I  thought  I  was 
brave  and  strong ;  but  I  am  weak  and  timid,  and  I 
shall  never  respect  myself  any  more.  Send  him 
away  ;  tell  him  what  an  abject  creature  I  am  !  It 
will  kill  me  to  have  him  think  meanly  of  me,  but 
oh,  it  will  be  a  thousand  times  better  that  he 
should  have  a  right  to  scorn  me  now,  than  that  I 
should  ever  come  to  despise  myself  for  having 
been  ashamed  of  him,  when  —  when  —  That  I 
couldn't  bear!"  She  drops  into  a  chair  near  the 
table  and  lets  fall  her  face  into  her  hands  upon  it, 
sobbing. 

Mrs.  Bellmgham :  "  Leslie,  Leslie  !  Be  your 
self  !  How  strangely  you  act !  " 

Leslie,  lifting  her  face,  to  let  it  gleam  a  moment 
upon  her  mother  before  she  drops  it :  "  Oh,  yes,  I 


116  Out  of  the   Question. 

feel  very  strangely.  But  now  I  won't  distress  you 
any  more,  mother,"  lifting  her  face  again  and  im 
petuously  drying  her  eyes  with  her  handkerchief ; 
"  I  will  be  firm,  now,  and  no  one  shall  ever  hear  a 
murmur  from  me,  —  not  a  murmur.  I  think  that 's 
due  to  you,  mamma ;  you  have  heen  so  patient 
with  me.  I  've  no  right  to  grieve  you  by  going  on 
in  this  silly  way,  and  I  won't.  I  will  be  firm,  firm, 
firm!"  She  casts  herself  into  her  mother's  arms, 
and  as  she  hangs  upon  her  neck  in  a  passion  of 
grief,  Mrs.  Murray  appears  in  the  door-way,  and  in 
spite  of  Mrs.  Bellingham's  gesticulated  entreaties 
to  retire,  advances  into  the  room. 


H. 
MRS.  MURRAY,  MRS.  BELLINGHAM,  and  LESLIE. 

Mrs.  Murray  :  "  Why,  what  in  the  world  does 
all  this  mean?" 

Leslie,  raising  her  head  and  turning  fiercely 
upon  her :  "  It  means  that  I  Jm  now  all  you  wish 
me  to  be, —  quite  your  own  ideal  of  ingratitude 
and  selfishness,  and  I  wish  you  joy  of  your  suc 
cess  ! "  She  vanishes  stormily  from  the  room  and 
leaves  Mrs.  Murray  planted. 

Mrs.  Murray :  "  Has  she  dismissed  him  ?  Has 
she  broken  with  him  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bellingham,  coldly:  "I  think  she  meant 
you  to  understand  that." 

Mrs.  Murray :  "  Very  well,  then,  Charles  can't 
come  a  moment  too  soon.  If  things  are  at  this 
pass,  and  Leslie  's  in  this  mood,  it's  the  most  dan 
gerous  moment  of  the  whole  affair.  If  she  should 
meet  him  now,  everything  would  be  lost." 


118  Out  of  the   Question. 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  Don't  be  troubled.  She 
won't  meet  him  ;  he 's  gone." 

Mrs.  Murray :  "  I  shall  believe  that  when  I  see 
him  going.  A  man  like  that  would  never  leave  her, 
in  the  world,* because  she  bade  him,  —  and  I  should 
think  him  a  great  fool  if  he  did." 


V. 

BLAKE'S   SAVING  DOUBT. 


I. 

LESLIE  and  MAGGIE. 

Leslie :  "  But  it 's  all  over,  —  it 's  all  over.  I 
shall  live  it  down  ;  but  it  will  make  another  girl  of 
me,  Maggie."  Along  the  road  that  winds  near  the 
nook  where  the  encounter  with  the  tramps  took 
place,  Leslie  comes  languidly  pacing  with  her 
friend  Maggie  "Wallace,  who  listens,  as  they  walk, 
with  downcast  eyes  and  an  air  of  reverent  devo 
tion,  to  Leslie's  talk.  Her  voice  trembles  a  little, 
and  as  they  pause  a  moment  Maggie  draws  Leslie's 
head  down  upon  her  neck,  from  which  the  latter 
presently  lifts  it  fiercely.  "  I  don't  wish  you  to 
pity  me,  Maggie,  for  I  don't  deserve  any  pity. 
I  'm  not  suffering  an  atom  more  than  I  ought.  It 's 
all  my  own  fault.  Mamma  really  left  me  quite 
free,  and  if  I  cared  more  for  what  people  would 
say  and  think  and  look  than  I  did  for  him,  I'm 


122  Out  of  the   Question. 

rightfully  punished,  and  I  'm  not  going  to  whimper 
about  it.  I  've  thought  it  all  out." 

Maggie :  "  0  Leslie,  you  always  did  think  things 
out  so  clearly  ! " 

Leslie  :  "  And  I  hope  that  I  shall  get  my  reward, 
and  be  an  example.  I  hope  I  shall  never  marry  at 
all,  or  else  some  horrid  old  thing  I  detest ;  it 
would  serve  me  right  and  I  should  be  glad  of  it !  " 

Maggie :  "  Oh  no,  no  !  Don't  talk  in  that  way, 
Leslie.  Do  come  back  with  me  to  the  house  and 
lie  down,  or  I  'm  sure  you  '11  be  ill.  You  look  per 
fectly  worn  out." 

Leslie,  drooping  upon  the  fallen  log  where  she 
had  sat  to  sketch  the  birch  forest :  "  Yes,  I  'm  tired. 
I  think  I  shall  never  be  rested  again.  It's  the 
same  place,"  —  looking  wistfully  round,  —  "  and 
yet  how  strange  it  seems.  You  know  we  used 
to  come  here,  and  sit  on  this  log  and  talk.  What 
long,  long  talks  !  Oh  me,  it  will  never  be  again  ! 
How  weird  those  birches  look !  Like  ghosts.  I 
wish  I  was  one  of  them.  Well,  well !  It 's  all 
over.  Don't  wait  here,  Maggie,  dear.  Go  back 
to  the  house ;  I  will  come  soon ;  you  must  n't  let 


Blake's  Saving  Doubt.  123 

me  keep  you  from  Miss  Roberts.  Excuse  me  to 
her,  and  tell  her  I  '11  go  some  other  time.  I  can't, 
now.  Go,  Maggie  !  " 

Maggie :  "  0  Leslie ;  I  hate  to  leave  you  here  ! 
After  what's  happened,  it  seems  such  a  dreadful 
place." 

Leslie:  "After  what's  happened,  it's  a  sacred 
place,  —  the  dearest  place  in  the  world  to  me. 
Come,  Maggie,  you  mustn't  break  your  appoint 
ment.  It  was  very  good  of  you  to  come  with  me 
at  all,  and  now  you  must  go.  Say  that  you  left  me 
behind  a  little  way  ;  that  I  '11  be  there  directly." 

Maggie :  "  Leslie  !  " 

Leslie :  "  Maggie  ! "  They  embrace  tenderly, 
and  Maggie,  looking  back  more  than  once,  goes  on 
her  way,  while  Leslie  sits  staring  absently  at  the 
birches.  She  remains  in  this  dreary  reverie  till  she 
is  startled  by  a  footfall  in  the  road,  when  she  rises 
in  a  sudden  panic.  Blake  listlessly  advances  to 
ward  her ;  at  the  sight  of  her  he  halts,  and  they 
both  stand  silently  regarding  each  other. 


n. 

LESLIE  and  BLAKE. 

Leslie  :  "  Oh  !    You  said  you  were  going  away." 

Slake:  "Are  you  in  such  haste  to  have  me 
gone  ?  I  had  to  wait  for  the  afternoon  stage ;  I 
could  n't  walk.  I  thought  I  might  keep  faith  with 
you  by  staying  away  from  the  house  till  it  was  time 
to  start." 

Leslie,  precipitately :  "  Do  you  call  that  keeping 
faith  with  me  ?  Is  leaving  me  all  alone  keeping — 
Oh,  yes,  yes,  it  is  !  You  have  done  right.  It 's  I 
who  can't  keep  faith  with  myself.  Why  did  you 
come  here  ?  You  knew  I  would  be  here !  I 
did  n't  think  you  could  be  guilty  of  such  duplicity." 

Blake :  "  I  had  no  idea  of  finding  you  here,  but 
if  I  had  known  you  were  here  perhaps  I  could  n't 
have  kept  away.  The  future  does  n't  look  very 
bright  to  me,  Miss  Bellingham.  I  had  a  crazy 


Blake's  Saving  Doubt.  125 

notion  that  perhaps  I  might  somehow  find  some 
thing  of  the  past  here  that  I  could  make  my  own. 
I  wanted  to  come  and  stand  here,  arid  think  once 
more  that  it  all  really  happened  —  that  here  I  saw 
the  pity  in  your  face  that  made  me  so  glad  of  my 
hurt." 

Leslie :  "  No ;  stop  !  It  was  n't  pity  !  It  was 
nothing  good  or  generous.  It  was  mean  regret 
that  I  should  be  under  such  an  obligation  to  you  ; 
it  was  a  selfish  and  despicable  fear  that  you  would 
have  a  claim  upon  my  acquaintance  which  I  must 
recognize."  Blake  makes  a  gesture  of  protest  and 
disbelief,  and  seems  about  to  speak,  but  she  hurries 
on :  "  You  must  n't  go  away  with  one  good  thought 
of  me.  Since  we  parted,  three  hours  ago,  I  have 
learned  to  know  myself  as  I  never  did  before,  and 
now  I  see  what  a  contemptible  thing  I  am.  I  flat 
tered  myself  that  I  had  begged  you  to  go  away 
because  I  did  n't  like  to  cross  the  wishes  of  my 
family,  but  it  was  n't  that.  It  was — oh,  listen  I  and 
try  if  you  can  imagine  such  vileness :  I  'm  so  much 
afraid  of  the  world  I  Ve  always  lived  in,  that  no 
matter  how  good  and  brave  and  wise  and  noble 


126  Out  of  the   Question. 

you  were,  still  if  any  one  should  laugh  or  sneer  at 
you  because  you  had  been  —  what  you  have  been 
—  I  should  be  ashamed  of  you.  There !  I  'm  so 
low  and  feeble  a  creature  as  that ;  and  that 's  the 
real  reason  why  you  must  go  and  forget  me ;  and  I 
must  not  think  and  you  must  not  think  it 's  from 
any  good  motive  I  send  you  away." 

Blake :  «  I  don't  believe  it !  " 

Leslie :  "  What ! " 

Blake :  "  I  don't  believe  what  you  say.  Nothing 
shall  rob  me  of  my  faith  in  you.  Do  you  think 
that  I  'm  not  man  enough  to  give  up  what  I  've  no 
right  to  because  it  's  the  treasure  of  the  world? 
Do  you  think  I  can't  go  till  you  make  me  believe 
that  what  I  'd  have  sold  my  life  for  is  n't  worth  a 
straw  ?  No !  I  '11  give  up  my  hope,  I  '11  give  up 
my  love,  —  poor  fool  I  was  to  let  it  live  an  in 
stant! —  but  my  faith  in  you  is  something  dearer 
yet,  and  I  '11  keep  that  till  I  die.  Say  what  you 
will,  you  are  still  first  among  women  to  me:  the 
most  beautiful,  the  noblest,  the  best !  " 

Leslie,  gasping,  ancl  arresting  him  in  a  movement 
to  turn  away :  "  Wait,  wait ;  don't  go  !  Speak  ; 


Blake's  Saving  Doubt.  127 

say  it  again !  Say  that  you  don't  believe  it ;  that 
it  is  n't  true !  " 

Blake :  "  No,  I  don't  believe  it.  No,  it  is  n't 
true.  It 's  abominably  false  ! " 

Leslie,  bursting  into  tears  :  "  Oh  yes,  it  is.  It 's 
abominable,  and  it 's  false.  Yes,  I  will  believe  in 
myself  again.  I  knoio  that  if  I  had  cared  for  — 
any  one,  as  —  as  you  cared,  as  you  said  you  cared 
for  me,  I  could  be  as  true  to  them  as  you  would  be 
through  any  fate.  Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you !  " 
At  the  tearful  joy  of  the  look  she  turns  on  him  he 
starts  toward  her.  "  Oh  !  "  —  she  shrinks  away  — 
"  you  must  n't  think  that  I  "  — 

Blake :  u  I  don't  think  anything  that  does  n't 
worship  you ! " 

Leslie :  "  Yes,  but  what  I  said  sounds  just  like 
the  other,  when  you  misunderstood  me  so  heart 
lessly." 

Blake :  "  I  don't  misunderstand  you  now.  You 
do  tell  me  that  you  love  me,  don't  you  ?  How 
should  I  dare  hope  without  your  leave?" 

Leslie :  "  You  said  you  would  n't  have  taken  me 
as  a  gift  if  I  had.  You  said  you  'd  have  hated  me. 
You  said"  — 


128  Out  of  the   Question. 

Slake :  "  I  was  all  wrong  in  what  I  thought. 
I  'm  ashamed  to  think  of  that ;  but  I  was  right  in 
what  I  said." 

Leslie:  "  Oh,  were  you !  If  you  could  misunder 
stand  me  then,  how  do  you  know  that  you  're  not 
misunderstanding  me  now  ?  " 

Blake  :  "  Perhaps  I  am.  Perhaps  I  'm  dream 
ing  as  wildly  as  I  was  then.  But  you  shall  say. 
Ami?" 

Leslie,  demurely  :  "  I  don't  know  ;  I "  —  staying 
his  instantaneous  further  approach  with  extended 
arm  —  "  No,  no  !  "  She  glances  fearfully  round 
"Wait;  come  with  me.  Come  back  with  me  — 
that  is,  if  you  will." 

Slake,  passionately :  "  If  I  will !  " 

Leslie,  with  pensive  archness:  "I  want  you  to 
help  me  clear  up  my  character." 

Blake,  gravely :  "  Leslie,  may  I "  — 

Leslie  :  "  I  can't  talk  with  you  here." 

Slake,  sadly:  "I  will  not  go  back  with  you 
to  make  sorrow  for  you  and  trouble  among  your 
friends.  It 's  enough  to  know  that  you  don't  for 
bid  me  to  love  you." 


Blake's  Saving  Doubt.  129 

Leslie  :  "  Oh  no,  it  is  n't  enough  —  for  every 
body." 

Blake  :  "  Leslie  "  — 

Leslie :  "  Miss  Bellingham,  please !  " 

Blake :  "  Miss  Bellingham  "  — 

Leslie:  "Well?" 

Blake,  after  a  stare  of  rapturous  perplexity : 
"  Nothing ! " 

Leslie,  laughing  through  her  tears :  "  If  you 
don't  make  haste  you  will  be  too  late  for  the  stage, 
and  then  you  can't  get  away  till  to-morrow." 


VI. 

MR.   CHARLES  BELLINGHAM'S  DIPLOMACY. 


MRS.  BELLIXGHAM,  MRS.  MURRAY,  and  MR. 
CHARLKS  BELLIXGHAM. 

IN  the  parlor  with  Mrs.  Bellingham  and  Mrs. 
Murray  sits  a  gentleman  no  longer  young,  but  in 
the  bloom  of  a  comfortable  middle  life,  with  blonde 
hair  tending  to  baldness,  accurately  parted  in  the 
middle,  and  with  a  handsome  face,  lazily  shrewd, 
supported  by  a  comely  substructure  of  double  chin, 
and  traversed  by  a  full  blonde  mustache.  He  is 
simply,  almost  carelessly,  yet  elegantly  dressed  in  a 
thin  summer  stuff,  and  he  has  an  effect  of  recent 
arrival.  His  manner  has  distinction,  enhanced  and 
refined  by  the  eye-glasses  which  his  near-sighted 
ness  obliges  him  to  wear.  He  sits  somewhat  pon 
derously  in  the  chair  in  which  he  has  planted  a 
person  just  losing  its  earlier  squareness  in  the  lines 
of  beauty ;  his  feet  are  set  rather  wide  apart  in  the 
fashion  of  gentlemen  approaching  a  certain  weight ; 


134  Out  of  the   Question. 

and  he  has  au  air  of  amiable  resolution  as  of  a 
man  who  having  dined  well  yesterday  means  to 
dine  well  to-day. 

Charles  Bellingham,  smiling  amusement  and  in 
dolently  getting  the  range  of  his  aunt  through  his 
glasses :  "  So  I  have  come  a  day  after  the  fair." 

Mrs.  Murray :  "  That  is  your  mother's  opinion." 

Mrs.  Bellingham:  "Yes,  Charles,  Leslie  had 
known  what  to  do  herself,  and  had  done  it,  even 
before  I  spoke  to  her.  I  'm  sorry  we  made  you 
drag  all  the  way  up  here,  for  nothing." 

Bellingham :  "  Oh.  I  don't  mind  it,  mother. 
Duty  called,  and  I  obeyed.  My  leisure  can  wait 
for  my  return.  The  only  thing  is  that  they  've  got 
a  new  fellow  at  the  club  now,  who  interprets  one  's 
ideas  of  planked  Spanish  mackerel  with  a  senti 
ment  that  amounts  to  genius.  I  suppose  you 
plank  horn-pout,  here.  But  as  to  coming  for  noth 
ing,  I  'd  much  rather  do  that  than  come  for  some 
thing,  in  a  case  like  this.  You  say  Leslie  saw 
herself  that  it  would  n't  do  ?" 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  Yes,  she  had  really  behaved 
admirably,  Charles ;  and  when  I  set  the  whole 
matter  before  her,  she  fully  agreed  with  me." 


Mr.  Charles  Bellingham's  Diplomacy.      135 

Bellingham :  "  But  you  think  she  rather  liked 
him?" 

Mrs.  Bellingham,  sighing  a  little :  "  Yes,  there  is 
no  doubt  of  that." 

Bellingham,  musingly :  "  Well,  it 's  a  pity.  Be 
haved  rather  well  in  that  tramp  business,  you 
said?" 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  Nobly." 

Bellingham:  "And  hasn't  pushed  himself,  at 
all?" 

Mrs.  Bellingham:  "Not  an  instant." 

Bellingham :  "  Well,  I  'm  sorry  for  him,  poor 
fellow,  but  I  'm  glad  the  thing 's  over.  It  would 
have  been  an  awkward  affair,  under  all  the  circum 
stances,  to  take  hold  of.  I  say,  mother,"  —  with  a 
significant  glance  at  Mrs.  Murray,  —  "  there  has  n't 
been  anything  —  ah  —  abrupt  in  the  management 
of  this  matter  ?  You  ladies  sometimes  forget  the 
limitations  of  action  in  your  amiable  eagerness  to 
have  things  over,  you  know." 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  I  think  your  mother  would 
not  forget  herself  in  such  a  case." 

Bellingham :  "  Of  course,  of  course  ;  excuse  my 


136  Out  of  the   Question. 

asking,  mother.  But  you're  about  the  only 
woman  that  would  n't." 

Mrs.  Murray,  bitterly :  "  Oh,  your  mother  and 
Leslie  have  both  used  him  with  the  greatest  tender 
ness." 

Bellingham,  dryly :  "  I  'm  glad  to  hear  it ;  I 
never  doubted  it.  If  the  man  had  been  treated 
by  any  of  my  family  with  the  faintest  slight  after 
what  had  happened,  I  should  have  felt  bound  as 
a  gentleman  to  offer  him  any  reparation  in  my 
power,  —  to  make  him  any  apology.  People  of 
our  sort  can't  do  anything  shabby."  Mrs.  Murray 
does  not  reply,  but  rises  from  her  place  on  the  sofa 
and  goes  to  the  window.  "  Does  Leslie  know  I  'm 
here?" 

Mrs.  Bellingham,  with  a  little  start :  "  Really,  I 
forgot  to  tell  her  you  were  coming  to-day  ;  we  had 
been  keeping  it  from  her,  and  "  — 

Bellingham  :  "  I  don't  know  that  it  matters. 
Where  is  she  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bellingham:  "I  saw  her  going  out  with 
Maggie  "Wallace.  I  dare  say  she  will  be  back 
soon." 


Mr.   Charles  Bettingham's   Diplomacy.      137 

Bellingham:  "All  right.  Where  is  the  young 
man  ?  Has  he  gone  yet?  " 

Mrs.  Bellingham  :  "  No,  he  could  n't  go  till  the 
afternoon  stage  leaves.  He  's  still  here." 

Bellingham:  "I  must  look  him  up,  and  make 
my  acknowledgments  to  him."  He  rises.  "  By 
the  way,  what 's  his  name  ?  " 

Mrs.  Murray,  standing  with  her  face  toward  the 
window,  leans  forward  and  inclines  to  this  side  and 
that,  as  if  to  make  perfectly  sure  before  speaking 
of  some  fact  of  vivid  interest  which  seems  to  have 
caught  her  notice,  and  at  the  moment  Bellingham 
puts  his  question  summons  her  sister-in-law  in  a 
voice  of  terrible  incrimination  and  triumph :  "  Mar 
ion,  did  you  say  Leslie  had  gone  out  with  Maggie 
Wallace  ?  " 

Mrs.   Bellingham,  indifferently  :  "Yes." 

Mrs.  Murray :  "  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to 
step  here  ?  "  Mrs.  Bellingham,  with  a  little  lady -like 
surprise,  approaches,  and  Mrs.  Murray  indicates 
with  a  stabbing  thrust  of  her  hand,  the  sight  which 
has  so  much  interested  her :  "  Does  that  look  as  if 
it  were  all  over  ?  " 


138  Out  of  the   Question. 

Bellingham,  carelessly,  as  Mrs.  Bellingham  with 
great  evident  distress  remains  looking  in  the  direc 
tion  indicated  :  "  What 's  the  matter  now  ?  " 

Mrs.  Murray:  "Nothing.  I  merely  wished  your 
mother  to  enjoy  a  fresh  proof  of  Leslie's  discre 
tion.  She  is  returning  to  tell  us  that  it 's  out  of 
the  question  in  company  with  the  young  man  him 
self." 

Bellingham :  "  Wha  —  ha,  ha,  ha !  —  What  ?  " 

Mrs.  Murray :  "  She  is  returning  with  the  young 
man  from  whom  she  had  just  parted  forever." 

Bellingham,  approaching :  "  Oh,  come  now,  aunt." 

Mrs.  Murray,  fiercely :  "  Will  you  look  for  your 
self,  if  you  don't  believe  me  ?  " 

Bellingham :  "  Oh,  I  believe  you,  fast  enough, 
but  as  for  looking,  you  know  I  could  n't  tell  the 
man  in  the  moon  at  this  distance,  if  Leslie  hap 
pened  to  be  walking  home  with  him.  But  is  the 
—  ah  —  fat  necessarily  in  the  fire,  because  "  — 
Mrs.  Murray  whirls  away  from  Bellingham  where 
he  remains  with  his  hands  on  his  hips  peering 
over  his  mother's  shoulder,  and  pounces  upon  a 
large  opera-glass  which  stands  on  the  centre-table, 


Mr.   Charles  Bellingham's  Diplomacy.     139 

and  returning  with  it  thrusts  it  at  him.  "  Eh  ? 
What?" 

Mrs.  Murray,  excitedly:  "It's  what  we  watch 
the  loons  on  the  lake  with." 

Bellingham  :  "  Well,  hut  I  don't  see  the  applica 
tion.  They  're  not  loons  on  the  lake." 

Mrs.  Murray :  "  No  ;  but  they  're  loons  on  the 
land,  and  it  comes  to  the  same  thing."  She  vehe 
mently  presses  the  glass  upon  him. 

Bellingham,  gravely :  "  Do  you  mean,  aunt,  that 
you  actually  want  me  to  watch  my  sister  through 
an  opera-glass,  like  a  shabby  Frenchman  at  a 
watering-place  ?  Thanks.  I  could  never  look  Les 
in  the  face  again.  It 's  a  little  too  much  like  eaves 
dropping."  He  folds  his  arms,  and  regards  his 
aunt  with  reproachful  amazement,  while  she  dashes 
back  to  set  the  glass  on  the  table  again. 

Mrs.  Bellingham,  in  great  trouble :  "  Wait,  Kate. 
Charles,  dear,  I  —  I  think  you  must." 

Bellingham  :   «  What  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  Yes,  you  had  better  look. 
You  will  have  to  proceed  in  this  matter  now,  and 
you  must  form  some  conclusions  beforehand." 

Bellingham  :  "  But  mother  "  — 


140  Out  of  the  Question. 

Mrs.  Bellingham,  anxiously :  "  Don't  worry  me, 
Charles.  I  think  you  must." 

Bellingham :  "  All  right,  mother."  He  unfolds 
his  arms  and  accepts  the  glass  from  her.  "  I  never 
knew  you  to  take  an  unfair  advantage,  and  I  '11 
obey  you  on  trust.  But  I  tell  you  I  don't  like  it. 
I  don't  like  it  at  all,"  —  getting  the  focus,  with 
several  trials ;  "  I  've  never  stolen  sheep,  but  I  think 
I  can  realize,  now,  something  of  the  self-reproach 
which  misappropriated  mutton  might  bring.  Where 
did  you  say  they  were  ?  Oh,  over  there !  /  was 
looking  off  here,  at  that  point.  They  're  coming 
this  way,  are  n't  they  ?  "  With  a  start :  '•'  Hollo  ! 
She  's  got  his  arm  !  Oh,  that  won't  do.  I  'm  sur 
prised  at  Les  doing  that,  unless  "  —  continuing  to 
look  —  ^By  Jove  !  He 's  not  a  bad-looking  fel 
low,  at  all.  He  —  Why,  confound  it !  No,  it 
can't  be  !  Why,  yes  —  no  —  yes,  it  is,  it  is  — 
by  Heaven,  it  is  —  by  all  that 's  strange  it  is  — 
BLAKE  !  "  He  lets  the  glass  fall ;  and  stands  glar 
ing  at  his  aunt  and  mother,  who  confront  him  in 
speechless  mystification. 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  Blake  ?  Why,  of  course  it  'a 
Blake.  We  told  you  it  was  Mr.  Blake ! " 


•  Mr    Charles   Bellingham's  Diplomacy.      141 

Bellingham :  "  No,  I  beg  your  pardon,  mother, 
you  didn't!  You  never  told  me  it  was  anybody 
—  by  name." 

Mrs.  Bellingham  :  "  Well  ?  " 

Bellingham :  "  Why,  don't  you  understand, 
mother  ?  It 's  my  Blake  ! " 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  Your  Blake  ?  Tour  — 
Charles,  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Bellingham :  "  Why,  I  mean  that  this  is  the 
man  " —  giving  his  glasses  a  fresh  pinch  on  his  nose 
with  his  thumb  and  forefinger  —  "  that  fished  me 
out  of  the  Mississippi.  I  flatter  myself  he  could  n't 
do  it  now.  'The  grossness  of  my  nature  would 
have  weight  to  drag  him  down,' —  both  of  us  down. 
But  he'd  try  it,  and  he'd  have  the  pluck  to  go 
down  with  me  if  he  failed.  Come,  mothej;,  you  see 
/  can't  do  anything  in  this  matter.  It 's  simply 
impossible.  It 's  out  of  the  question." 

Mrs.  Murray :  "  Why  is  it  out  of  the  question  ?  " 

Bellingham :  "  Well,  I  don't  know  that  I  can  ex 
plain,  aunt  Kate,  if  it  is  n't  clear  to  you,  already." 

Mrs.  Bellingham,  recovering  from  the  dismay 
in  which  her  son's  words  have  plunged  her: 


142  Out  of  the   Question. 

"  Charles,  Charles  !     Do  you  mean  that  this  Mr 
Blake  is  the  person  who  saved  you  from  " — 

Bellingham :  "  From  a  watery  grave  ?  I  do, 
mother." 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  There  must  be  some  mistake. 
You  can't  tell  at  this  distance,  Charles." 

Bellingham  :  "  There 's  no  mistake,  mother.  I 
should  know  Blake  on  the  top  of  Ponkwasset. 
He  was  rather  more  than  a  casual  acquaintance, 
you  see.  By  Jove,  I  can't  think  of  the  matter 
with  any  sort  of  repose.  I  can  see  it  all  now,  just 
as  if  it  were  somebody  else :  I  was  weighted  down 
down  with  my  accoutrements,  and  I  went  over  the 
side  of  the  boat  like  a  flash,  and  under  that  yellow 
deluge  like  a  bullet.  I  had  just  leisure  to  think 
what  a  shame  it  was  my  life  should  go  for  nothing 
at  a  time  when  we  needed  men  so  much,  when  I 
felt  a  grip  on  my  hair,"  —  rubbing  his  bald  spot,  — 
"  it  could  n't  be  done  now  !  Then  I  knew  I  was 
all  right,  and  waited  for  developments.  The  only 
development  was  Blake.  He  fought  shy  of  me,  if 
you  '11  believe  it,  after  that,  till  I  closed  with  him 
one  day  and  had  it  out  with  him,  and  convinced 


Mr.    Charles  Bellingltarn's  Diplomacy.     143 

him  that  he  had  done  rather  a  handsome  thing  by 
me.  But  that  was  the  end  of  it.  I  could  n't  get 
him  to  stand  anything  else  in  the  way  of  gratitude. 
Blake  had  a  vice  :  he  was  proud." 

Mrs.  Bellingham  :  "  And  what  became  of  him  ?  " 
Bellingham:  "Who?  Blake?  He  was  the 
engineer  of  the  boat,  I  ought  to  explain.  He  was 
transferred  to  a  gunboat  after  that,  and  I  believe 
he  stuck  to  it  throughout  the  fighting  on  the  Mis 
sissippi.  It 's  —  let  me  see  —  it 's  five  years  now 
since  I  saw  him  in  Nebraska,  when  I  went  out 
there  to  grow  up  with  the  country,  and  found  I 
could  n't  wait  for  it.'^  After  a  pause :  "  I  don't 
know  what  it  was  about  Blake ;  but  he  somehow 
made  everybody  feel  that  there  was  stuff  in  him. 
In  the  three  weeks  we  were  together  we  became 
great  friends,  and  I  must  say  I  never  liked  a  man 
better.  "Well,  that 's  why,  aunt  Kate." 

Mrs.  Murray :  "  I  don't  see  that  it  has  anything 
whatever  to  do  with  the  matter.  The  question  is 
whether  you  wish  Leslie  to  marry  a  man  of  his 
station  and  breeding,  or  not.  His  goodness  and 
greatness  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  The  fact  re- 


144  Out  of  the   Question. 

mains  that  he   is  not  at  all  her  equal  —  that  he 
is  n't  a  gentleman  "  — 

Bettingham :  *  "  Oh,  come  now,  aunt  Kate. 
You  're  not  going  to  tell  me  that  a  man  who  saved 
my  life  is  n't  a  gentleman  ?  " 

Mrs.  Murray:  "And  you're  not  going  to  tell 
me  that  a  steamboat  engineer  is  a  gentleman  ?  " 

JBellinakam,  disconcerted :  "  Eh  ?  " 

Mrs.  Murray :  "  The  question  is,  are  you  going 
to  abandon  that  unhappy  girl  to  her  fancy  for  a 
man  totally  unfit  to  be  her  husband  simply  because 
he  happened  to  save  your  life  ?  " 

BeUingham  :  "  Why,  you^ee,  aunt  Kate  "  — 

Mrs.  Murray :  "  Do  you  think  it  would  be  gen 
tlemanly  to  do  it  ?  " 

BeUingham :  "  Well,  if  you  put  it  that  way,  no, 
I  don't.  And  if  you  want  to  know,  I  don't  see 
my  way  to  behaving  like  a  gentleman  in  this  con 
nection,  whatever  I  do."  He  scratches  his  head 
ruefully :  "  The  fact  is  that  the  advantages  are  all 
on  Blake's  side,  and  he  '11  have  to  manage  very 
badly  if  he  does  n't  come  out  the  only  gentleman 
in  the  business."  After  a  moment :  "  How  was  it 


Mr.   Charles  Bellingham 's   Diplomacy.     145 

you  did  n't  put  the  name  and  the  —  a  —  profession 
together,  mother,  and  reflect  that  this  was  my 
Blake?" 

Mrs.  Bellingham^  with  plaintive  reproach : 
"  Charles,  you  know  how  uncommunicative  you 
were  about  all  your  life  as  a  soldier.  You  never 
told  me  half  so  much  about  this  affair  before,  and 
you  never  —  it  seems  very  heartless  now  that  I 
did  n't  insist  on  knowing,  but  at  the  time  it  was 
only  part  of  the  nightmare  in  which  we  were  liv 
ing  —  you  never  told  me  his  name  before." 

Bellingham  :  "  Did  n't  I  ?  Well !  I  supposed  I 
had,  of  course.  Um  !  That  was  too  bad.  I  say, 
mother,  Blake  has  never  let  anything  drop  that 
made  you  think  he  had  ever  known  me,  or  done 
me  any  little  favor,  I  suppose  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bellingham:  "No,  not  the  slightest  hint. 
If  he  had  only  "  — 

Bellingham  :  "  Ah,  that  was  like  him,  confound 

him!"     Bellingham  muses   again  with  a  hopeless 

air,  and  then   starts   suddenly   from  his   reverie : 

r'  Why,  the  fact  is,  you  know,  mother,  Blake  is 

10 


146  Out  of  the   Question. 

really  a  magnificent  fellow  ;  and  you  know  —  well, 
I  like  him !  " 

Mrs.  Murray:  "Oh!     That's  Leslie's  excuse!" 

BeUingham  :  «  Eh  ?  " 

Mrs.  Murray :  "  If  you  are  going  to  take 
Leslie's  part,  it 's  fortunate  you  have  common 
ground.  Like  him  !  " 

BeUingham  :  "  Mother,  what  is  the  unhallowed 
hour  for  dinner  in  these  wilds  ?  One  o'clock  ?  I  've 
a  fancy  for  tackling  this  business  after  dinner." 

Mrs.  BeUingham  :  "  I  'm  afraid,  my  dear,  that  it 
can't  be  put  off.  They  must  be  here,  soon." 

BeUingham,  sighing  :  "  "Well  !  Though  they 
didn't  seem  to  be  hurrying." 

Mrs.    Murray,   bitterly :    "  If  they   could   only 
know  what  a  friendly  disposition  there  was  towards 
him  here,  I  'm  sure  they  'd  make  haste  !  " 
BeUingham:  "Urn!'' 

Mrs.  BeUingham,  after  a  pause :  "  You  don't 
know  anything  about  his  —  his  —  family,  do  you, 
Charles  ?  " 

BeUingham:  "No,  mother,  I  don't.  My  im 
pression  is  that  he  has  no  family,  any  more  than 


Mr.   Charles  Bellingham' s  Diplomacy.      147 

—  Adam  ;  or  —  protoplasm.  All  I  know  about 
him  is  that  he  was  from  first  to  last  one  of  those 
natural  gentlemen  that  upset  all  your  preconceived 
notions  of  those  things.  His  associations  must 
have  been  commoner  than  —  well  it 's  impossible 
to  compare  them  to  anything  satisfactory  ;  but  I 
never  saw  a  trait  in  him  or  heard  a  word  from 
him  that  was  n't  refined.  He  gave  me  the  impres 
sion  of  a  very  able  man,  too,  as  I  was  just  saying, 
but  where  his  strength  lay,  I  can't  say." 

Mrs.  Bellingham  :  "  Leslie  says  he 's  an  in 
ventor." 

Bellingham:  "Well,  very  likely.  I  remember, 
now :  he  was  a  machinist  by  trade,  I  believe,  and 
he  was  an  enlisted  man  on  the  boat  when  the  engi 
neer  was  killed ;  and  Blake  was  the  man  who 
could  step  right  into  his  place.  It  was  considered 
a  good  thing  amongst  those  people.  He  was  a 
reader  in  his  way,  and  most  of  the  time  he  had 
some  particularly  hard-headed  book  in  his  hand 
when  he  was  off  duty,  —  about  physics  or  meta 
physics  ;  used  to  talk  them  up  now  and  then,  very 
well.  I  never  had  any  doubt  about  his  coming 


148  Out  of  the   Question. 

out  all  right.  He  's  a  baffler,  Blake  is,  —  at  least 
he  is,  for  me.  Now  I  suppose  aunt  Kate,  here, 
does  n't  find  him  baffling,  at  all.  She  takes  our  lit 
tle  standards,  our  little  weights  and  measures,  and 
tests  him  with  them,  and  she's  perfectly  satisfied 
with  the  result  It 's  a  clear  case  of  won 't  do." 
Mrs.  Murray :  "  Do  you  say  it  is  n't  ?  " 
Bellingham :  "  No ;  I  merely  doubt  if  it  is. 
You  don't  doubt,  and  there  you  have  the  advantage 
of  me.  You  always  were  a  selected  oyster,  aunt 
Kate,  and  you  always  knew  that  you  could  n't  be 
improved  upon.  Now,  I'm  a  selected  oyster,  too, 
apparently,  but  I  'm  not  certain  that  I  'm  the  best 
choice  that  could  have  been  made.  I  'm  a  huitre 
de  mon  siecle ;  I  am  the  ill-starred  mollusk  that 
doubts.  Of  course  we  can't  go  counter  to  the 
theory  that  God  once  created  people  and  no-people, 
and  that  they  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  go  on  re 
producing  themselves  and  leave  him  at  leisure  for 
the  rest  of  eternity.  But  really,  aunt  Kate,  I  have 
seen  some  things  in  my  time  —  and  I  don't  mind 
saying  Blake  is  one  of  them  —  that  made  me  think 
the  Creator  was  still  —  active.  I  admit  that  it 


Mr.   Charles  Bellingham's  Diplomacy.     149 

sounds"  —  fitting  his  glasses  on  —  " rather  absurd 
for  an  old  diner-out  like  myself  to  say  it." 

Mrs.  Murray,  with  energy :  "  All  this  is  neither 
here  nor  there,  Charles,  and  you  know  it.  The 
simple  question  is  whether  you  wish  your  sister  to 
marry  a  man  whose  past  you  '11  be  ashamed  to  be 
frank  about.  I  '11  admit,  if  you  like,  that  he 's 
quite  our  equal,  —  our  superior  ;  but  what  are  you 
going  to  do  with  your  ex-steamboat  engineer  in  so 
ciety  ?  " 

Bellingham,  dubiously :  "  Well,  it  would  be 
rather  awkward." 

Mrs.  Murray :  "  How  will  you  introduce  him, 
and  what  will  you  say  to  people  about  his  family 
and  his  station  and  business  ?  Or  do  you  mean  to 
banish  yourself  and  give  up  the  world  which  you 
find  so  comfortable  for  the  boon  of  a  brother-in- 
law  whom  you  don't  really  know  from  Adam  ?  " 

Bellingham :  "  Well,  I  must  allow  the  force  of 
your  argument.  "  Yes,"  —  after  a  gloomy  little 
reverie,  —  "  you  're  right.  It  won't  do.  It  is  out 
of  the  question.  I  '11  put  an  end  to  it,  —  if  it 
does  n't  put  an  end  to  me.  That '  weird  seizure ' 


150  Out  of  the   Question. 

as  of  misappropriated  mutton  oppresses  me  again. 
Mother,  I  think  you  'd  better  go  away,  —  you  and 
.  aunt  Kate,  —  and  let  me  meet  him  and  Leslie  here 
alone,  when  they  come  in.  Or,  I  say:  if  you 
could  detach  Les,  and  let  him  come  in  here  by 
himself,  somehow  ?  I  don't  suppose  it  can  bo 
done.  Nothing  seems  disposed  to  let  itself  be 
done." 

Mrs.  Bellingham  :  "  Charles;  I  'm  sorry  this  dis 
agreeable  business  should  fall  to  you." 

Bettingham :  "  Oh,  don't  mind  it,  mother. 
What's  a  brother  for,  if  he  can't  be  called  upon  to 
break  off  his  sister's  love  affairs  ?  But  I  don't 
deny  it 's  a  nasty  business." 

Mrs.  Murray,  in  retiring :  "  I  sincerely  hope  he  '11 
make  it  so  for  you,  and  cure  you  of  your  absurdi 
ties." 


n. 

BELLINGHAM  and  MRS.  BELLIXGHAM;  LESLIE  and 
BLAKE,  without, 

Bellingham :  "  O  Parthian  shaft !  Wish  me 
well  out  of  it,  mother  ! " 

Mrs.  Bellingham,  sighing  :  "  I  do,  Charles ;  I  do 
with  all  my  heart.  You  have  the  most  difficult 
duty  that  a  gentleman  ever  had  to  perform.  I  don't 
see  how  you  're  to  take  hold  of  it ;  I  don't,  indeed." 

Bellingham  :  "  Well,  it  is  embarrassing.  But  it 's 
a  noble  cause,  and  I  suppose  Heaven  will  befriend 
me.  The  trouble  is,  don't  you  know,  I  have  n't 
got  any  —  any  point  of  view,  any  tenable  point 
of  view.  It  won't  do  to  act  simply  in  our  own  in 
terest  ;  we  can't  do  that,  mother ;  we  're  not  the 
sort.  I  must  try  to  do  it  in  Blake's  behalf,  and 
that 's  what  I  don't  see  my  way  to,  exactly.  What 
I  wish  to  do  is  to  make  my  interference  a  magnani 
mous  benefaction  to  Blake,  —  something  that  he  '11 


152  Out  of  the   Question. 

recognize  in  after  years  with  gratitude  as  a — a 
mysterious  Providence.  If  I  Ve  got  to  be  a  snob, 
mother,  I  wish  to  be  a  snob  on  the  highest  possible 
grounds." 

Mrs.  BeUingham :  "  Don't  use  that  word, 
Charles.  It's  shocking." 

BeUingham  :   "  Well,  I  won't,   mother.     I  say  : 
can't  you  think  of  some  disqualifications  in  Leslie, 
that  I  could  make  a  point  d'appui  in  a  conscien 
tious  effort  to  serve  Blake  ?  " 
Mrs.  BellingJiam  :  "  Charles  ! " 

BeUingham :  "  I  mean,  is  n't  she  rather  a 
worldly,  frivolous,  fashionable  spirit,  devoted  to 
pleasure,  and  incapable  of  sympathizing  with  — 
with  his  higher  moods,  don't  you  know  ?  Some 
thing  like  that  ?  "  BeUingham  puts  his  thumbs  in 
his  waistcoat  pockets  and  inclines  towards  his 
mother  with  a  hopeful  smile. 

Mrs.  BeUingham  :  "  No,  Charles  ;  you  know  she 
is  nothing  of  the  kind.  She 's  a  girl  and  she  likes 
amusement,  but  I  should  like  to  see  the  man  whose 
moods  were  too  lofty  for  Leslie.  She  is  every 
thing  that's  generous  and  true  and  high-minded." 


Mr.   Charles  Bellingham's  Diplomacy.     153 

Bellingham,  scratching  his  head  :  "  That 's  bad ! 
Then  she  is  n't  —  ah  —  she  has  n't  any  habits  of 
extravagance  that  would  unfit  her  to  be  the  wife  of 
a  poor  man  who  —  ah  —  had  his  way  to  make  in 
the  world  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  She  never  spends  half  her 
allowance  on  herself;  and  besides,  Charles,  (how 
ridiculously  you  talk  ! )  she  has  all  that  money 
your  uncle  left  her,  and  if  she  marries  him,  he 
won't  be  poor  any  longer." 

Bellingham,  eagerly :  "  And  that  would  ruin  his 
career  !  Still  "  —  after  a  moment's  thought —  "  I 
don't  see  how  I  'm  to  use  that  idea,  exactly.  No,  I 
shall  have  to  fall  back  on  the  good  old  ground  that 
it's  simply  —  out  of  the  question.  I  think  that's 
good ;  it  has  a  thorough,  logical,  and  final  sound. 
I  shall  stick  to  that.  Well,  leave  me  to  my  fate ! 
—  Hollo  !  That 's  Blake's  voice,  now.  I  don't 
wonder  it  takes  Leslie.  It 's  the  most  sympathetic 
voice  in  the  world.  They  're  coming  up  here, 
are  n't  they  ?  You  'd  better  go,  mother.  I  wish 
you  could  have  got  Leslie  away  "  — 

Leslie,  without :  "  Wait  for  me,  there.     I  must 


154  Out  of  the   Question. 

go  to  mamma's  room  at  once,  and  tell  her  every 
thing." 

Blake,  without :  "  Of  course.  And  say  that  I 
wish  to  see  her." 

Leslie:  «  Good-by." 

Make:  "Good-by." 

Leslie  :  "  We  won't  keep  you  long.     Good-by." 

Blake :  "  Good-lay."  As  he  enters  one  of  the 
parlor  doors,  flushed  and  radiant,  Mrs.  Bellingharn 
retreats  through  the  other. 


m 

BLAKE  and  BELLIXGHAM. 

Bellingliam,  coming  promptly  forward  to  greet 
Blake,  with  both  hands  extended :  "  Blake  !  " 

Blake,  after  a  moment  of  stupefaction :  "  Bel- 
lingham  ! " 

Bellingham :  "  My  dear  old  fellow  ! "  He  wrings 
Blake  fervently  by  the  left  hand.  "This  is  the 
most  astonishing  thing  in  the  world !  To  find  you 
here  —  in  New  England  —  with  my  people  ;  it 's 
the  most  wonderful  thing  that  ever  was  !  They  've 
been  —  ah  —  been  telling  me  all  about  you,  my 
mother  has  ;  and  I  want  to  thank  you  —  you  look 
uncommonly  well,  Blake,  and  not  a  day  older ! 
Do  you  mean  to  go  through  life  with  that  figure  ? 
—  thank  you  for  all  you  've  done  for  them  ;  and  — 
I  don't  know :  what  does  a  man  say  to  a  fellow 
who  has  behaved  as  you  did  in  that  business  with 


156  Out  of  the  Question. 

the  tramps  ?  "  —  wringing  Blake's  left  hand  again 
and  gently  touching  his  right  arm  in  its  sling. 
"  By  Jove,  old  fellow !  I  don't  know  what  to  say, 
to  you  ;  I  —  Do  you  think  it  was  quite  the  thing, 
though,  not  to  intimate  that  you  'd  known  me  ? 
Come,  now  ;  that  was  n't  fair.  It  was  n't  frank. 
It  was  n't  like  you,  Blake.  Hey  ?  "  He  affection 
ately  presses  Blake's  hand  at  every  emphatic 
word. 

Blake,  releasing  himself:  "  I  did  n't  like  it :  but 
I  could  n't  help  it.  It  would  have  seemed  to 
claim  something,  and  I  should  have  had  to  allow 
—  they  would  have  found  out  "  — 

Bellingham :  "  That  you  happened  to  save  my 
life,  once.  Well,  upon  my  word,  I  don't  think  it 
was  a  thing  to  be  ashamed  of;  at  least,  at  that 
time ;  I  was  in  the  army,  then.  At  present  —  I 
don't  know  that  I  should  blame  you  for  hushing 
the  matter  up." 

Blake,  who  has  turned  uneasily  away,  and  has 
apparently  not  been  paying  the  closest  attention 
to  Bellingham's  reproaches,  but  now  confronts 
him:  "I  suppose  you're  a  gentleman,  Belling- 
ham." 


Mr.    Charles  Bellingham's  Diplomacy.     157 

Bellingham,  taking  the  abruptness  of  Blake's 
question  with  amiable  irony :  "  There  have  been 
moments  in  which  I  have  flattered  myself  to  that 
degree  ;  even  existence  itself  is  problematical,  to 
my  mind,  at  other  times :  but  —  well,  yes,  I  sup 
pose  I  am  a  gentleman.  The  term  's  conventional. 
And  then  ?  " 

Blake :  "  I  mean  that  you  're  a  fair-minded, 
honest  man,  and  that  I  can  talk  to  you  without  the 
risk  of  being  misunderstood  or  having  any  sort  of 
meanness  attributed  to  me  ?  " 

Bellingham :  "  I  should  have  to  be  a  much 
shabbier  fellow  than  I  am,  for  anything  of  that 
sort,  Blake." 

Blake :  "  I  did  n't  expect  to  find  you  here ;  I 
was  expecting  to  speak  with  your  mother.  But 
I  don't  see  why  I  should  n't  say  to  you  what 
I  have  to  say.  In  fact,  I  think  I  can  say  it  better 
to  you." 

Bellingham :  "  Thanks,  Blake  ;  you  'Jl  always 
find  me  your  —  That  is  —  well,  go  ahead  ! " 

Blake :  "  You  don't  think  I  'm  a  man  to  do  any 
thing  sneaking,  do  you  ?  " 


158  Out  of  the   Question. 

Bellingham:  "Again?  My  dear  fellow,  that  goes 
without  saying.  It's  out  of  the  question." 

JBlake,  walking  up  and  down,  and  stopping  from 
time  to  time  while  he  speaks  in  a  tone  of  pas 
sionate  self-restraint :  "  Well,  I  'm  glad  to  hear 
that,  because  I  know  that  to  some  the  thing  might 
have  a  different  look."  After  a  pause,  in  which 
Blake  takes  another  turn  round  the  room  and  ar 
rives  in  front  of  Bellingham  again :  "  If  your 
people  have  been  telling  you  about  me,  I  suppose 
they  've  hinted  —  but  I  don't  care  to  know  it  — 
that  they  think  I  'm  in  love  with  Miss  Bellingham, 
your  sister.  I  am ! "  He  looks  at  Bellingham, 
who  remains  impassive  behind  the  glitter  of  his 
eye-glasses :  "  Do  you  see  any  reason  why  I 
should  n't  be  ?  " 

Bellingham,  reluctantly :  "  N-uo." 

Blake:  "I  believe  —  no,  I  can't  believe  it!  — 
but  I  know  that  Miss  Bellingham  permits  it ;  that 
she  —  I  can't  say  it !  Is  there  any  —  any  reason 
why  I  should  n't  ask  her  mother's  leave  to  ask 
her  to  be  my  wife  ?  Why,  of  course,  there  is  !  — 
a  thousand,  million  reasons  in  my  unworthiness ; 
I  know  that.  But  is  there  "  — 


Mr.   Charles  Bellingham's  Diplomacy.     159 

Bellingham,  abruptly  :  "  Blake,  my  dear  fellow 
—  my  dear,  good  old  boy  —  it  won't  do  ;  it 's  out 
of  the  question  !  It  is,  it  is  indeed  !  It  won't  do  at 
all.  Confound  it,  man  !  You  know  I  like  you, 
that  I  've  always  wanted  to  be  a  great  deal  more 
your  friend  than  you  would  ever  let  me.  Don't 
ask  me  why,  but  take  my  word  for  it  when  I  tell 
you  it 's  out  of  the  question.  There  are  a  thou 
sand  reasons,  as  you  say,  though  there  is  n't  one  of 
them  in  any  fault  of  yours,  old  fellow.  But  I  can't 
give  them.  It  won't  do  ! "  Bellingham  in  his 
turn  begins  to  walk  up  and  down  the  room  with 
a  face  of  acute  misery  and  hopelessness,  and  at  the 
last  word  he  stops  and  stares  helplessly  into 
Blake's  eyes,  who  has  remained  in  his  place. 

Blake,  with  suppressed  feeling :  "  Do  you  ex 
pect  me  to  be  satisfied  with  that  answer?" 

Bellingham,  at  first  confused  and  then  with  a 
burst  of  candor  :  "  No  ;  I  would  n't,  myself."  His 
head  falls,  and  a  groan  breaks  from  his  lips  :  "  This 
is  the  roughest  thing  I  ever  knew  of.  Hang  it, 
Blake,  don't  you  see  what  a  —  a  —  box  I  'm  in  ? 
People  pulling  and  hauling  at  me,  and  hammering 


160  Out  of  the   Question. 

away  on  all  sides,  till  I  don't  know  which  end  I  'm 
standing  on !  You  would  n't  like  it  yourself.  Why 
do  you  ask  ?  Why  must  you  be  —  ah  —  satisfied  ? 
Come  !  Why  don't  you  let  it  all  —  go  ?  " 

Blake :  "  Upon  my  word,  Bellingham,  you 
talk  "  — 

Bellingham :  "  Like  a  fool  !  I  know  it.  And 
it  's  strictly  in  character.  At  the  present  moment 
I  feel  like  a  fool.  I  am  a  fool !  By  Jove,  if  I 
ever  supposed  I  should  get  into  such  a  tight  place 
as  this !  Why,  don't  you  see,  Blake,  what  an  ex 
tremely  unfair  advantage  you  have  of  me  ?  Deuce 
take  it,  man,  /  have  some  rights  in  the  matter, 
too,  I  fancy  !  " 

Blake,  bewildered  :  "  Rights  ?  Advantage  ?  I 
don't  understand  all  this." 

Bellingham :  "  How  not  understand  ?  " 

Blake,  gazing  in  mystified  silence  at  Belling 
ham  for  a  brief  space,  and  then  resuming  more 
steadily :  "  There  's  some  objection  to  me,  that 's 
clear  enough.  I  don't  make  any  claim,  but  you 
would  think  I  ought  to  know  what  the  matter  is, 
would  n't  you  ?  " 


Mr.   Charles  Bellingham's  Diplomacy.     161 

Bellingham  :  «  Y-yes,  Blake." 

Blake :  "  I  know  that  I  'm  ten  years  older  than 
Miss  Bellingham,  and  that  it  might  look  as  if  "  — 

Bellingham,  hastily :  "  Oh,  not  in  the  least  —  not 
in  the  least !  " 

Blake :  "  Our  acquaintance  was  n't  regularly 
made,  I  believe.  But  you  don"t  suppose  that  I 
urged  it,  or  that  it  would  have  been  kept  up  if  it 
had  n't  been  for  their  kindness  and  for  chances  that 
nobody  foresaw  ?  " 

Bellingham  :  "  There  is  n't  a  circumstance  of  the 
whole  affair  that  is  n't  perfectly  honorable  to  you, 
Blake  ;  that  is  n't  like  you.  Confound  it  "  — 

Blake :  "  I  won't  ask  you  whether  you  think  I 
thought  of  her  being  rich  ?  " 

Bellingham. :  "  No,  sir  !  That  would  be  offen 
sive." 

Blake:  "Then  what  is  it?  Is  there  some  per 
sonal  objection  to  me  with  your  family  ?  " 

Bellingham :  "  There  is  n't  at  all,  Blake,  I  as 
sure  you." 

Blake :  "  Then  I  don't  understand,  and  "  —  with 
rising  spirit  —  "I  want  to  say  once  for  all  that  I 
11 


162  Out  of  the   Question. 

think  your  leaving  me  to  ask  these  things  and  put 
myself  on  the  defensive  in  this  way,  begging  you 
for  this  reason  and  for  that,  is  n't  what  I  'm  used 
to.  But  I  'm  like  a  man  on  trial  for  his  life,  and  I 
stand  it.  Now,  go  on  and  say  what  there  is  to  say. 
Don't  spare  my  feelings,  man  !  I  have  no  pride 
where  she  is  concerned.  What  do  you  know 
against  me  that  makes  it  impossible  ?  " 

Bellingham :  "  0  Lord  !  It  is  n't  against  you. 
It 's  nothing  personal ;  personally  we  've  all  rea 
son  to  respect  and  honor  you  ;  you  've  done  us 
nothing  but  good  in  the  handsomest  way.  But  it 
won't  do  for  all  that.  There 's  an  incompatibility 
—  a  —  a  —  /don't  know  what  to  call  it!  Con 
found  it,  Blake !  You  know  very  well  that 
there 's  none  of  that  cursed  nonsense  about  me.  / 
don't  care  what  a  man  is  in  life  ;  I  only  ask  what 
he  is  in  himself.  I  accept  the  American  plan  in 
good  faith.  I  know  all  sorts  of  fellows  ;  devilish 
good  fellows  some  of  them  are,  too  !  Why,  I  had 
that  Mitchell,  who  behaved  so  well  at  the  Squat- 
tick  Mills  disaster,  to  dine  with  me ;  went  down 
and  looked  him  up,  and  had  him  to  dine  with  me. 


Mr.    Charles  Bellingham'' s  Diplomacy.     163 

Some  of  the  men  did  n't  think  it  was  the  thing ; 
but  I  can  assure  you  that  he  talked  magnificently 
about  the  affair.  I  drew  him  out,  and  before  we 
were  done  we  had  the  whole  room  about  us.  I 
would  n't  have  missed  it  on  any  account.  That 's 
my  way." 

Blake,  dryly :  "  It 's  a  very  magnanimous  way. 
The  man  must  have  felt  honored." 

Bellingham :  "  What  ?  —  Oh,  deuce  take  it !  7 
don't  mean  any  of  that  patronizing  rot,  you  know 
I  don't.  You  know  I  think  such  a  man  as  that 
ten  times  as  good  as  myself.  What  I  mean  is  that 
it's  different  with  women.  They  have  n't  got  the 
same  —  what  shall  I  say  ?  —  horizons,  social  ho 
rizons,  don't  you  know.  They  can't  accept  a  man 
for  what  he  is  in  himself.  They  have  to  take  him 
for  what  he  is  n't  in  himself.  They  have  to  have 
their  world  carried  on  upon  the  European  plan, 
in  short.  I  don't  know  whether  I  make  myself 
understood  "  — 

Blake,  with  hardness:  "Yes,  you  do.  The  ob 
jection  is  to  my  having  been  "  — 

Bellingham,  hastily  interposing  :  "  Well  —  ah  — 


1 64  Out  of  the   Question. 

no  !  I  can't  admit  that.  It  is  n't  the  occupation. 
We  've  all  been  occupied  more  or  less  remotely  in 
• — in  some  sort  of  thing  ;  a  man's  a  fool  who  tries 
to  blink  that.  But  I  don't  know  that  I  can  make 
it  clear  how  our  belonging,  now,  to  a  different 
order  of  things  makes  our  women  distrustful  —  I 
won't  say  skeptical,  but  anxious  —  as  to  the  in 
fluence  of — ah  —  other  social  circumstances. 
They  're  mere  creatures  of  tradition,  women  are, 
and  where  you  or  I,  Blake,"  —  with  caressing  good 
comradeship  and  the  assumption  of  an  impartial 
high-mindedness,  —  "  would  n't  care  a  straw  for  a 
man's  trade  or  profession,  they  are  more  disposed 
to  —  ah  —  particularize,  and  —  don't  you  know  — 
distinguish  ! " 

Blake,  gravely  :  "  I  tried  to  make  Miss  Belling- 
ham  understand  from  the  first  just  what  I  was  and 
had  been.  I  certainly  never  concealed  anything. 
Do  you  thick  she  would  care  for  what  disturbs  the 
other  ladies  of  your  family  ?  " 

Bettingham :  "  Leslie  ?  Well,  she  's  still  a  very 
young  girl,  and  she  has  streaks  of  originality  that 
rather  disqualify  her  for  appreciating  —  ah  — 


Mr.   Charles  Bellingham' s  Diplomacy.     165 

She  's  romantic  !  I  'm  sure  I  'm  greatly  obliged  to 
you,  Blake,  for  taking  the  thing  in  this  reasonable 
way.  You  know  how  to  sympathize  with  one's 
extreme  reluctance  —  and  —  ah  —  embarrassment 
in  putting  a  case  of  the  kind." 

Blake,  with  a  sad,  musing  tone :  "  Yes,  God 
knows  I  'm  sorry  for  you.  I  don't  suppose  you 
like  to  do  it." 

Bellinyham :  "  Thanks,  thanks,  Blake.  It  was 
quite  as  much  on  your  own  account  that  I  spoke. 
They  would  make  it  deucedly  uncomfortable  for 
you  in  the  family,  —  there 's  no  end  to  the  aunts 
and  grandmothers,  and  things,  and  you  'd  make 
them  uncomfortable  too,  with  your  —  history." 
Mopping  his  forehead  with  his  handkerchief: 
"  You  have  it  infernally  hot,  up  here,  don't  you  ?  " 

Blake,  still  musingly :  "  Then  you  think  that 
Miss  Bellingham  herself  would  n't  be  seriously  dis 
tressed  ?  " 

Bellingham :  "  Leslie 's  a  girl  that  will  go 
through  anything  she 's  made  up  her  mind  to. 
And  if  she  likes  you  well  enough  to  marry 
you  "  — 

Blake :  "  She  says  so." 


166  Out  of  the  Question. 

Bellingham :  "  Then  burning  plowshares  would  n't 
have  the  smallest  effect  upon  her.     But "  — 

Blake,  quietly  :  "  Then  I  won't  give  her  up." 

Bettingham :  «  Eh  ?  " 

Blake :  "  I  won't  give  her  up.  It 's  bad  enough 
as  it  is,  but  if  I  were  such  a  sneak  as  to  leave  the 
woman  who  loved  me  because  my  marrying  her 
would  be  awkward  for  her  friends,  I  should  be  ten 
thousand  times  unworthier  than  I  am.  I  am  going 
to  hold  to  my  one  chance  of  showing  myself  wor 
thy  to  win  her,  and  if  she  will  have  me  I  will  have 
her,  though  it  smashes  the  whole  social  structure. 
Bellingham,  you  're  mistaken  about  this  thing ; 
her  happiness  won't  depend  upon  the  success  of 
the  aunts  and  cousins  in  accounting  for  me  to  the 
world ;  it  '11  depend  upon  whether  I  'm  man 
enough  to  be  all  the  world  to  her.  If  she  thinks 
I  am,  I  will  be  !  " 

Bellingham :  "  Oh,  don't  talk  in  that  illogical 
way,  Blake.  Confound  it !  I  know ;  I  can  ac 
count  for  your  state  of  feeling,  and  all  that ;  but  I 
do  assure  you  it 's  mistaken.  Let  me  put  it  to  you. 
You  don't  see  this  matter  as  I  do  ;  you  can't. 
The  best  part  of  a  woman's  life  is  social  "  — 


Mr.   Charles  Belhnyham 's  Diplomacy.     167 

Blake :  "  I  don't  believe  that." 

Bellingham  :  "  Well,  no  matter  :  it 's  so ;  and 
whether  you  came  into  Leslie's  world  or  took  her 
out  of  it,  you'd  make  no  end  of — of — row. 
She  'd  suffer  in  a  thousand  ways." 

Blake :  "  Not  if  she  loved  me,  and  was  the  kind 
of  girl  I  take  her  to  be." 

Bellingham :  "  Oh,  yes,  she  would,  my  dear  fel 
low  ;  Leslie 's  a  devilish  proud  girl ;  she  'd  suffer 
in  secret,  but  it  would  try  her  pride  in  ways  you 
don't  know  of.  Why,  only  consider :  she 's  taken 
by  surprise  in  this  affair ;  she  's  had  no  time  to 
think  "  — 

Blake :  "  She  shall  have  my  whole  lifetime  to 
make  up  her  mind  in  ;  she  shall  test  me  in  every 
way  she  will,  and  she  may  fling  me  away  at  any 
moment  she  will,  and  I  will  be  her  slave  forever. 
She  may  give  me  up,  but  I  will  not  give  her  up." 

Bellingham  :  "  Well,  well !  We  won't  dispute 
about  terms,  but  I  '11  put  it  to  you,  yourself,  Blake, 
—  yourself.  I  want  you  to  see  that  I  'm  acting  for 
your  good  ;  that  I  'm  your  friend." 

Blake :  "  You  're  her  brother,  and  you  're  my 


168  Out  -f  the   Question. 

friend,  whatever  you  say.  I  Ve  borne  to  have  you 
insinuate  that  I  'm  your  inferior.  Go  on ! " 
Blake's  voice  trembles. 

Bettingham :  "  Oh,  now  !  Don't  take  that  tone  ! 
It  is  n't  fair.  It  makes  me  feel  like  —  like  the 
very  devil.  It  does,  indeed.  I  don't  mean  any 
thing  of  the  kind.  I  mean  'simply  that  —  that  — 
ah  —  remote  circumstances  over  which  you  had  — 
ah  —  no  control  have  placed  you  at  a  disadvan 
tage,  —  social  disadvantage.  That 's  all.  It  is  n't 
a  question  of  inferiority  or  superiority.  And  I 
merely  put  it  to  you  —  as  a  friend,  mind  — 
whether  the  happiness  of —  ah  —  all  concerned 
could  n't  be  more  promptly  —  ah  —  secured  by 
your  refusing  to  submit  to  tests  that  might  — 
Come  now  my  dear  fellow  !  She  's  flattered  — 
any  woman  might  be  —  by  your  liking  her ;  but 
when  she  went  back  to  her  own  associations  "  — 

Blake:  "If  she  sees  any  man  she  likes  better 
than  me,  I  won't  claim  her.  But  I  can't  judge  her 
by  a  loyalty  less  than  my  own.  She  will  never 
change."  Bellingham  essays  an  answer,  but  after 
some  preliminary  ahs  and  urns,  abruptly  desists, 


Mr.   Charles  Bellingham^  s  Diplomacy.     169 

and  guards  an  evidently  troubled  silence,  which 
Blake  assails  with  jealous  quickness :  "  What  do 
you  mean  ?  Out  with  it,  man  !  " 

Bellingham  :  "  Don't  take  it  in  that  way  !  My 
dear  fellow  "  — 

Blake  :  "  If  I  'm  her  caprice  and  not  her  choice, 
I  want  to  know  it !  I  won't  be  killed  by  inches. 
Speak!" 

Bellingham :  "  Stop  !  I  owe  you  my  life,  but 
you  must  n't  take  that  tone  with  me." 

Blake  :  "  You  owe  me  nothing,  —  nothing  but 
an  answer.  If  you  mean  there  has  been  some  one 
before  me —  She  has  told  me  that  she  never 
cared  for  any  one  but  me ;  I  believe  her,  but  I 
want  to  know  what  you  mean." 

Bellingham :  "  She 's  my  sister  !  What  do  you 
mean  ?  " 


IV. 

LESLIE,  BLAKE,  and  BELLIXGHAM. 

Leslie :  "  Oh,  what  does  it  mean  ?  "  She  enters 
the  room,  as  if  she  had  been  suddenly  summoned 
by  the  sound  of  their  angry  voices  from  a  guiltless 
ambush  in  the  hall.  At  the  sight  of  their  flushed 
faces  and  defiant  attitudes  she  flutters,  electrically 
attracted,  first  toward  one  and  then  toward  the 
other,  but  at  last  she  instinctively  takes  shelter  at 
Blake's  elbow :  "  Charles,  what  are  you  saying  ? 
What  are  you  both  so  angry  for?  Oh,  I  hoped 
to  find  you  such  good  friends,  and  here  you  are 
quarreling !  Charles,  what  have  you  been  doing  ? 
0  Charles,  I  always  thought  you  were  so  gen 
erous  and  magnanimous,  and  have  you  been 
joining  that  odious  conspiracy  against  us  ?  For 
shame !  And  what  have  you  found  to  say,  I 
should  like  to  know  ?  I  should  like  to  know 
what  you  've  found  to  say  —  what  a  gentleman 


Mr.   Charles  Bellingham' s  Diplomacy.     171 

COULD  say,  under  the  circumstances  ! "  She  grows 
more  vehement  as  their  mutual  embarrassment  in 
creases  upon  the  men,  and  Bellingham  fades  into  a 
blank  dismay  behind  the  glitter  of  his  eyeglasses. 
"  Have  you  been  saying  something  you  're  ashamed 
of,  Charles?  You  couldn't  say  anything  about 
him,  and  so  you  Ve  been  trying  to  set  him  against 
me.  What  have  you  said  about  your  sister, 
Charles  ?  —  and  always  pretending  to  be  so  fond 
of  me  !  Oh,  oh,  oh  !  "  Miss  Bellingham  snatches 
her  handkerchief  from  her  pocket  and  hides  her 
grief  in  it,  while  her  brother  remains  in  entire  pet 
rifaction  at  her  prescience. 

Bellingham,  finally  :  "  Why,  Leslie  —  Deuce 
take  it  all,  Blake,  why  don't  you  say  something? 
I  tell  you,  I  have  n't  said  anything  against  you, 
Les.  Blake  will  tell  you  himself  that  I  was 
merely  endeavoring  to  set  the  thing  before  him 
from  different  points  of  view.  I  wanted  him  to 
consider  the  shortness  of  your  acquaintance  "  — 

Leslie,  in  her  handkerchief :  "  It 's  fully  three 
weeks  since  we  met,  —  you  know  it  is." 

Bellingham  :  "  And  I  wanted  him  to  reflect  upon 


172  Out  of  the   Question. 

how  very  different  all  your  associations  and  — 
traditions  —  were  "  — 

Leslie,  still  in  her  handkerchief :  "  Oh,  that  was 
delicate  —  very  ! " 

Bellingham :  "  And  to  —  ah  —  take  into  consid 
eration  the  fact  that  returning  to  another  —  atmos 
phere —  surroundings,  you  might  —  ah  —  change." 

Leslie,  lifting  her  face :  "  You  did !  Charles, 
did  I  ever  change  ?  " 

Bellingham :  "  Well,  I  don't  know.  I  don't 
know  whether  you  'd  call  it  changing,  exactly  ;  but 
I  certainly  got  the  impression  from  aunt  Kate 
that'  there  was  some  hope  on  Dudley's  part  last 
summer  "  — 

Leslie,  quitting  her  refuge  and  advancing  fiercely 
upon  the  dismayed  but  immovable  Bellingham 
with  her  right  hand  thrust  rigidly  down  at  her  side, 
and  her  left  held  behind  her  clutching  her  handker 
chief  :  "  Charles,  have  you  dared  to  intimate  that  I 
ever  cared  the  least  thing  about  that  —  that  —  hor 
rid  —  little  —  reptile  ?  When  you  knew  that  my 
life  was  made  perfectly  ghastly  by  the  way  aunt 
Kate  forced  him  on  me,  and  it  was  as  much  as  I 


Mr.    Charles  Bellingham's  Diplomacy.     173 

could  ever  do  to  treat  him  decently  !  I  never  en 
couraged  him  for  an  instant,  and  you  know  it.  Oh, 
Charley,  Charley,  how  could  you  ?  It  is  n't  for 
myself  I  care  ;  it 's  for  you,  for  you  're  a  gentle 
man,  and  you  let  yourself  do  that !  How  painfully 
strange  that  low,  mean,  shabby  feeling  must  have 
been  to  you  !  I  don't  wonder  you  could  n't  face 
me  or  speak  to  me.  I  don't "  — 

Bellingham,  desperately  :  "  Here ;  hold  on !  Good 
Lord  !  I  can't  stand  this  !  Confound  it,  I  'm  not 
made  of  granite — or  gutta-percha.  I'll  allow  it 
was  sneaking,  —  Blake  will  tell  you  I  looked  it,  — 
but  it  was  a  desperate  case.  It  was  a  family  job, 
and  I  had  to  do  my  best  —  or  my  worst  —  as  the 
head  of  the  family  ;  and  Blake  would  n't  hear  rea 
son,  and  "  — 

Leslie :  "  And  so  you  thought  you  'd  try  fraud!  " 
Bettingham  :  "  Well,  I  should  n't  use  that  word. 
But  it 's  the  privilege  of  your  sex  to  call  a  spade  a 
pitchfork,  if  you  don't  like  the  spade.  I  tell  you  I 
never  professed  to  know  anything  personally  about 
the  Dudley  business  and  I  did  n't  say  anything 
about  it ;  when  Blake  caught  me  up  so,  I  was  em- 


174  Out  of  the   Question. 

barrassed  to  think  how  I  might  have  mentioned  it 
in  — in  the  heat  of  argument.  Come,  Blake  "  — 

Leslie,  turning  and  going  devoutly  up  to  Blake  : 
"  Yes,  he  will  defend  you.  He  must  save  your 
honor  since  he  saved  your  life." 

Bellinyham,  with  a  start :  "  Eh  ?  " 

Leslie :  "  Oh,  I  know  about  it !  Mamma  told 
me.  She  thinks  just  as  I  do,  now,  and  she  has 
been  feeling  dreadfully  about  this  shabby  work 
she  'd  set  you  at ;  but  I  comforted  her.  I  told  her 
you  would  never  do  it  in  the  world;  that  you 
would  just  shuffle  about  in  your  way  "  — 

Bellingham  :  "  Oh,  thanks  !  " 

Leslie :  "  But  that  you  had  too  good  a  heart,  too 
high  a  spirit,  to  breathe  a  syllable  that  would 
wound  the  pride  of  a  brave  and  generous  man  to 
whom  you  owed  life  itself :  that  you  would  rather 
die  than  do  it !  "  To  Blake :  "  Oh,  I  've  always 
been  a  romantic  girl,  —  you  won't  mind  it  in  me, 
will  you  ?  —  and  I  've  had  my  foolish  dreams  a 
thousand  times  about  the  man  who  risked  his  life 
to  save  my  brother's ;  and  I  hoped  and  longed 
that  some  day  we  should  meet.  I  promised  my- 


Mr.   Charles  Bellingham's  Diplomacy.     175 

self  that  I  should  know  him,  and  I  always  thought 
how  sweet  and  dear  a  privilege  it  would  be  to 
thank  him.  I  want  to  thank  you  for  his  life  as  I 
used  to  dream  of  doing,  but  I  cannot  yet.  I  can 
not  till  you  tell  me  that  he  has  not  said  one  word 
unworthy  of  you,  —  unworthy  of  a  gentleman  !  " 

Blake,  smiling  :  "  He  's  all  right !  " 

Leslie,  impetuously  clinging  to  him :  "  Oh, 
thanks,  thanks,  thanks  !  " 

Bellingham,  accurately  focusing  the  pair  with 
freshly  adjusted  glasses  :  "  If  you  '11  both  give  me 
your  blessing,  now,  I  '11  go  away,  feeling  perfectly 
rehabilitated,  in  the  afternoon  stage." 


•v. 

MRS.  BELLINGHAM,  and  LESLIE,  BLAKE,  and  BEL- 
LINGHAM;  afterwards  MRS.  MURRAY. 

Mrs.  Bellingham,  entering  the  parlor  door : 
"  Stage  ?  Why,  Mr.  Blake  is  n't  going  away !  " 

BeUingham :  "  Oh,  no,  Mr.  Blake  has  kindly 
consented  to  remain.  It  was  I  who  thought  of 
going.  I  can't  bear  to  be  idle  ! " 

Mrs.  BeUingham,  apart  from  the  others : 
"  Charles,  dear,  I'm  sorry  I  asked  you  to  under 
take  that  disagreeable  business,  and  I  'd  have  come 
back  at  once  with  Leslie  to  relieve  you,  —  to  tell 
you  that  you  need  n't  speak  after  all,  —  but  she  felt 
sure  that  you  would  n't,  and  she  insisted  upon  leav 
ing  you  together  and  then  stealing  back  upon  you 
and  enjoying  "  — 

Bellingham,  solemnly :  "  You  little  knew  me, 
mother.  I  have  the  making  of  an  iron-hearted 


Mr.   Charles  Bettingham's  Diplomacy.     177 

parent  in  me,  and  I  was  crushing  all  hope  out  of 
Blake  when  Leslie  came  in." 

Mrs.  Bettingham :  "  Charles,  you  don't  mean  that 
you  said  anything  to  wound  the  feelings  of  a  man 
to  whom  you  owed  your  life, — to  whom  we  all 
owe  so  much  ?  " 

Bettingham :  "  I  don't  know  about  his  feelings. 
But  I  represented  pretty  distinctly  to  him  the 
social  incompatability." 

Mrs.  Bettingham :  "  Charles,  I  wonder  at  you  !  " 

Bettingham :  "  Oh,  yes !  So  do  I.  But  if 
you  '11  take  the  pains  to  recall  the  facts,  that 's  ex 
actly  what  you  left  me  to  do.  May  I  ask  what  has 
caused  you  to  change  your  mind  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bettingham,  earnestly :  "  I  found  that  Les 
lie's  happiness  really  depended  upon  it;  and  in 
fact,  Charles,  when  I  came  to  reflect,  I  found  that 
I  myself  liked  him." 

Bettingham :  "  The  words  have  a  familiar  sound, 
—  as  if  I  had  used  them  myself  in  a  former  exist 
ence."  Turning  from  his  mother  and  looking 
about :  "  I  seem  to  miss  a  —  a  support  —  moral 
12 


178  Out  of  the   Question. 

support  —  in  those  present.  Where  is  aunt 
Kate  ?  " 

Mrs.  Murray,  appearing  at  the  door :  "  Marion  ! 
Ma "  —  She  hesitates  at  sight  of  the  peaceful 
grouping. 

Bellingham :  "  Ah,  this  is  indeed  opportune ! 
Come  in,  aunt  Kate,  come  in!  This  is  a  free 
fight,  as  they  say  in  Mr.  Blake's  section.  Any  one 
can  join."  Mrs.  Murray  advances  wonderingly 
into  the  room,  and  Bellingham  turns  to  his  sister, 
where  she  stands  at  Blake's  side :  "  Leslie,  you 
think  I  've  behaved  very  unhandsomely  in  this  mat 
ter,  don't  you  ?  " 

Leslie,  plaintively :  "  Charley,  you  know  I  hate 
to  blame  you.  But  I  never  could  have  believed  it 
if  any  one  else  had  told  me." 

Bellingham:  "  All  right.  Mother,  I  understand 
that  you  would  have  been  similarly  incredulous  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  I  know  that  you  acted  from 
a  good  motive,  Charles,  but  you  certainly  went  to 
an  extreme  that  I  could  never  have  expected." 

BeUingham:  "All  right,  again.  Blake,  if  the 
persons  and  relations  had  all  been  changed,  could 
you  have  said  to  me  what  I  said  to  you  ?  " 


Mr.   Charles  Bellingham's  Diplomacy.     179 

Blake :  "  That  is  n't  a  fair  question,  Belling- 
ham." 

Bellingham  :  "  All  right,,  as  before.  Now,  aunt 
Kate,  I  appeal  to  you.  You  know  all  the  circum 
stances  in  which  I  was  left  here  with  this  man  who 
saved  my  life,  who  rescued  Leslie  from  those 
tramps,  who  has  done  you  all  a  thousand  kind 
nesses  of  various  sorts  and  sizes,  who  has  behaved 
with  the  utmost  delicacy  and  discretion  throughout, 
and  is  in  himself  a  thoroughly  splendid  fellow.  Do 
you  think  I  did  right  or  wrong  to  set  plainly  be 
fore  him  the  social  disadvantages  to  which  his  mar- 
ryiug  Leslie  would  put  us  ?  " 

Mrs.  Murray,  instantly  and  with  great  energy : 
"  Charles,  /say  —  and  every  person  in  society,  ex 
cept  your  mother  and  sister,  would  say  —  that  you 
did  exactly  right !  " 

Bellingham :  "  That  settles  it.  Blake,  my  dear 
old  fellow,  I  beg  your  pardon  with  all  my  heart ; 
and  I  ask  you  to  forget,  if  you  can,  every  word  I 
said.  Confound  society  ! "  He  offers  his  hand  to 
Blake,  who  seizes  it  and  wrings  it  in  his  own. 

Leslie,  as  she  flings  her  arms  round  his  neck, 


180  Out  of  the   Question. 

with  a  fluttering  cry  of  joy :  "  Oh,  Charley, 
Charley,  I  've  got  my  ideal  back  again ! " 

Bellingham,  disengaging  her  arms  and  putting 
her  hand  into  Blake's  :  "  Both  of  them."  Turning 
to  Mrs.  Murray :  "  And  now,  aunt,  I  beg  your 
pardon.  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

Mrs.  Murray,  frozenly:  "Charles,  you  know 
my  principles." 

Bellingham :  "  They  're  identical  on  all  points 
with  my  own.  Well  ?  " 

Mrs.  Murray,  grimly :  "  Well,  then,  you  know 
that  I  never  would  abandon  my  family,  whatever 
happened ! " 

Bellingham :  "  By  Jove,  that  is  n't  so  bad.  We 
must  be  satisfied  to  take  your  forgiveness  as  we 
get  it.  Perhaps  Leslie  might  object  to  the  formula 
tion  of"  — 

Leslie,  super-joyously :  "  Oh,  no !  I  object  to 
nothing  in  the  world,  now,  Charles.  Aunt  Kate 
is  too  good !  I  never  should  have  thought  of  ask 
ing  her  to  remain  with  us." 

Bellingham:  That  isn't  so  bad,  either!  You 
are  your  aunt's  own  niece.  Come,  Blake,  we 


Mr.   Charles  Bellingham?  s  Diplomacy.     181 

can't  let  this  go  on.  Say  something  to  allay  the 
ill  feeling  you  've  created  in  this  family." 

Blake:  "I  think  I'd  better  not  try.  But  if 
you  '11  give  me  time,  I  '11  do  my  best  to  live  down 
the  objections  to  me." 

Bellingham :  "  Oh,  you  've  done  that.  What 
we  want  now  —  as  I  understand  aunt  Kate  —  is 
that  you  should  live  down  the  objections  to  us. 
One  thing  that  puzzles  me  "  —  thoughtfully 
scratching  the  sparse  parting  of  his  hair  —  "  is 
that  our  position  is  so  very  equivocal  in  regard  to 
the  real  principle  involved.  It  seems  to  me  that 
we  are  begging  the  whole  question,  which  is,  if 
Blake  "  — 

Leslie :  "  There,  there  !     I  knew  he  would  !  " 

Bellingham^  severely :  "  Mother,  you  will  allow 
that  I  have  been  left  to  take  the  brunt  of  this 
little  affair  in  a  —  well,  somewhat  circuitous  man 
ner?" 

Mrs.  Bettingham  :  "  Charles,  I  am  very,  very 
sorry  "  — 

Bellingham:  "And  that  I  am  entitled  to  some 
«ort  of  reparation  ?  " 


182  Out  of  the  Question. 

Leslie :  "  Don't  allow  that,  mamma !  I  know 
he's  going  to  say  something  disagreeable.  He 
looks  just  as  he  always  does  when  he  has  one  of 
his  ideas." 

Bellingham  :  "  Thanks,  Miss  Bellingham.  I  am 
going  to  have  this  particular  satisfaction  out  of 
you.  Then  I  will  return  to  my  habitual  state  of 
agreeable  vacancy.  Mother  "  — 

Leslie  :  "  Mamma,  don't  answer  him  !  It 's  the 
only  way." 

Bellingham  :  "  It  is  not  necessary  that  I  should 
be  answered.  I  only  wish  to  have  the  floor.  The 
question  is,  if  Blake  were  merely  a  gentleman 
somewhat  at  odds  with  his  history,  associations, 
and  occupation,  and  not  also  our  benefactor  and 
preserver  in  so  many  ways,  —  whether  we  should 
be  so  ready  to  —  ah  "  — 

Mrs.  Bellingham :  "  Charles,  dear,  I  think  it  is 
unnecessary  to  enter  into  these  painful  minutiae." 

Mrs.  Murray :  "  I  feel  bound  to  say  that  I  know 
we  should  not." 

Bellingham  :  "  This  is  the  point  which  I  wished 
to  bring  out.  Blake,  here  is  your  opportunity : 
renounce  us ! " 


Mr.   Charles  Bellingham's  Diplomacy.     183 

Blake :  "  What  do  you  say,  Leslie  ?  " 
Leslie:  "I  say  that  I  don't  believe  it,  and  I 
know  that  I  like  you  for  yourself,  —  not  for  what 
you  've  done  for  us.  I  did  from  the  first  moment, 
before  you  spoke  or  saw  me.  But  if  you  doubt 
me,  or  should  ever  doubt  me  "  — 

JSlake,  taking  in  his  left  both  the  little  hands 
that  she  has  appealingly  laid  upon  his  arms : 
"  That 's  out  of  the  question  ! " 


•- 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILI 


A  A      000199699 


Lancaster  Town  Library 


The  library  is  open  every  afternoon,  except  Sunday, 
from  2  until  5,  and  on  Monday,  Wednesday  and  Satur 
day  evenings  from  7  to  9. 

All  books,  except  new  fiction,  may  be  kept  three 
weeks,  and  a  fine  of  three  cents  a  day  will  be  charged 
for  over  detention.  New  fiction  may  be  kept  one  week, 
and  the  fine  will  be  two  cents  a  day  for  over  detention. 

Borrowers  may  take  two  books  at  one  time,  pro 
vided  that  only  one  book  of  fiction  is  taken. 

Books  to  be  renewed  must  be  returned  to  the  library. 

The  owner  of  a  card  will  be  responsible  for  all 
books,  fines  and  penalties  recorded  against  it. 

A  person  wishing  to  take  books  on  another  person's 
card  may  be  required  to  produce  written  permission  tr 
that  effect.  / 

If  a  card  is  lost,  five  cents  must  be  paid  for  a  ner 

The  librarian  may  refuse  to  change  a  book 
day  on  which  it  is  taken  out  and  must  withh 
of  the  library  from  all  whose  fines  are  unr 

Persons    wilfully    violating    the    rule' 
may   be   deprived   of  its   privileges   »' 
the  Trustees. 

Whoever   wilfully,    and    n> 
cause,  writes  upon,  injure' 
book,  plate,  picture,  engr 
to  any  Public  Library, 


